


Made Unbreakable

by andeemae



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen, Hunger Games Tributes, Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andeemae/pseuds/andeemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only eighteen year olds get Reaped, that's what kids in District Ten tell themselves, that's the odds. The odds have never really favored Birdy though. A Hunger Games OC story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: And here it is, the story no one asked for. I just needed to clear my mind and ended up playing with my OC Birdy's story, which is the first story I ever wrote. If you haven't been introduced to her you probably won't want to read this, because, well, you know, no investment. Debated whether or not to post this here, but decided to in the end. Anyways, this story has a lot of tough topic brought up, like rape, suicide, and execution, so don't read if those bother you. I didn't want to shy away from the darker aspects of what life in Panem might be like other Districts, so very little gets held back. Also, things are filtered through the eyes of a twelve year old in this story, not the twenty year old with years of Capitol experience under her belt I introduced in 'Down the Rabbit Hole', please keep that in mind. Anyways, I hope if anyone reads this they this enjoy it.

"Be careful up there, Bird!"

Glaring down at Jobe, Birdy sits up, spins the knife in her hand.

Right. Careful.

Ignoring the sudden gust of wind that nearly knocks her off balance, Birdy inches further out on the branch until she's at the rope.

The Peacekeepers had hung the seventeen year old almost two weeks prior. Normally they liked to leave the bodies up for a month, a rotting reminder to people the price of misbehavior, but the summer had been particularly hot and humid and the newest batch of Peacekeepers don't have the stomach for the fetid aroma the boy's body is giving off.

They'd come out to the group home and grabbed the first kids they'd seen to do the dirty work of cutting the boy down and disposing of him before the sun had even risen over the tree line.

Yawning, Birdy stretches out and begins sawing through the thick rope. After a few minutes it snaps, followed by the sickening crunch of bone breaking on the ground.

"Ugh!" Jessup grunts, and when Birdy looks down he's shaking his foot, kicking what looks to be innards off his boots.

Squinting down, Birdy sees the body has broken, the force of hitting the ground having been the last abuse it could take.

Birds had pecked his eyes out the first day, then gone after his soft belly over the first week as he'd bloated and split in the heat. Coyotes had come in the night and pulled off his legs after that because he'd been dangling too low on the branches.

What's left will have to be shoveled up and carted off, buried deep, otherwise he'll end up entirely consumed.

It seems a cruel fate for having lost a bullet, but it's the law, the price for the privilege of being a wrangler in the Capitol's employment and being allowed a firearm. Lose a bullet, be unable to account for its use with the body of an animal that was attacking your herd, and you hang.

To the boy's credit, he hadn't cried as they'd put the rope around his neck. He was more a man than the bastards that strung him up.

The Peacekeepers were new to Ten, and it was their first hanging. They'd made the drop was too long. It was nothing short of a miracle the boy's head hadn't popped off when he had the stool kicked out from under him.

"I'll talk to them about proper rope length," Crispin, one of the training Peacekeepers, one who'd been around for a few years and was reasonable, had said when Birdy and Katy-Jo Lewes had gone to him to complain.

"You should," Birdy told him. "If they'd made it too short we'd've been there forever. And they need to use the gallows. We got them for a reason."

And time is valuable.

Like now, they could be out snake hunting, instead they're going to be scooping up rotting guts for at least half an hour because a bunch of green Peacekeepers had used a tree instead of the gallows and more wildlife than normal had gotten hold of the remains. It's wasteful.

Scooting back down the branch, down the rough trunk of the tree, scraping the palms of her hands as she does, Birdy sighs when she reaches the bottom.

It's late afternoon before they finish digging the hole.

The ground is rock hard and dry from drought, making digging nearly impossible, and they have to stop several times to keep from overheating.

"Hope you get better luck on the other side," Katy-Jo Lewes tells the body as they dump what's left of it in the rough hole.

"Amen," Jessup mutters, pushing rust colored dirt in.

"Vaya con dios," Birdy adds.

Jobe frowns as he shovels a load of dirt, stopping to look at her. "What's that mean?"

Nose wrinkling, Birdy answers, "Go with God or something, I think. My dad always said it."

Even though it had gotten him beaten more than a few times. It was a strange tongue, and strange tongues weren't allowed in Panem.

Jobe just grunts, tossing the load of dirt into hole.

He probably doesn't believe in a god, and Birdy doesn't blame him. She isn't sure she does either, but she like the words. Even if there's nothing on the other side of life, no after and no god, the words are pretty, comforting.

And they need pretty and comforting things.

"Think we can gig any frogs tonight?" Jobe asks as they make their way back to the town, dragging their wheelbarrow and shovels behind them.

Jessup grins blissfully. "I could do with some Fried legs."

Birdy nods. She could too, and since they'd just traded several snake rattles for a share of lard they could have just that.

"Momma Muetter isn't gonna let us out tonight," Katy-Jo Lewes reminds him. "We gotta be up early for the train tomorrow."

All their excitement dries up after that. Trains mean going to the District Seat, and going to the District Seat means the Reaping.

"The odds are in your favor," their school teacher, Ms. Honeywell, had told them as she'd helped the kids from the District group home fill out their paperwork requesting tesserae.

It was their duty, as orphans, wards of the District, to apply for tesserae in the names of their 'family', the other children in their homes. The extra grain, oil, necessities, were their payment to the District for providing them with the very basics of living, for being drains on their society.

If they'd given the extra provisions to the group homes that would've been fine, great, but in four years of living in the home Birdy had yet to see any extra grain or oil. They weren't given so much as a pound of extra lard. Everything they signed up for went to families, people with loved ones.

There was no fairness in it, but life wasn't fair. If it were none of them would be in the group homes.

"There are thousands of children. And thousands more slips in the hopper," Ms. Honeywell continued to explain.

"Someone'll get picked though," Katy-Jo Marsen had tearfully muttered.

"More than likely it'll be an eighteen year old though, they got hundreds more slips than us," Jessup tried to comfort her. "You won't get picked."

Birdy had almost pointed out that Katy-Jo Marsen would be eighteen someday, and have her hundred and sixty-seven slips multiplied into the thousands, the same as every other kid in a group home.

The system is rigged against them, and while the odds might not be against them necessarily, they certainly aren't in their favor.

She'd held her tongue though. Katy-Jo Marsen cried enough without Birdy's help.

So they'd filled out their papers and handed them in, and known that when their twelfth birthdays came, their papers would be filed.

The hundred and sixty-seven slips with 'Phoebe Alameda' on them concern Birdy only a little. She's more worried for her older friends.

"How many you have in there this year, Jobe?" Jessup asks suddenly.

"Almost five hundred," he answers simply.

Katy-Jo Lewes lets out slow whistle.

"Nice knowing you," Birdy adds, hoping to lighten the moment.

"Oh, shut up, Bird," Jobe grumbles, kicking a rock at her.

It misses widely, causing Birdy to snort.

"With aim like that you should probably leave the frog gigging to others."

Swearing, he aims another kick at her, but the rock misses even worse than the last.

"Well, at least you won't be much of a loss."

Dropping his shovel he dives at her.

Laughing, Birdy dodges him, running away as he slips in the gravel, tearing his pants and skinning his knee.

"Come on, Red, you need to practice if you want you survive the Arena!"

Fighting down a grin, he snatches up his shovel and starts chasing after her.

Despite having longer legs and bigger strides, Birdy beats him back to the home by several minutes, jumps the fence and plops onto the rotting front steps to wait and gloat.

"Wash up," Lizzie tells her when she spots her after nearly ten minutes. "Momma Muetter wants all the Reaping age kids dressed and ready for bed by twenty hundred."

Mumbling to herself, Birdy wades through the waist deep grass to the back of the house.

Dozens of kids are at the troughs, sloshing murky water onto themselves, trying to clean their hair and faces.

"Here, Birdy!" Katy-Jo Marsen waves excitedly, pointing to an open spot beside her.

"Thanks," Birdy mumbles, hoisting herself up and nearly flipping into the water, only being saved by someone grabbing the back of her shirt.

"I swear, you'd die without me," Katy-Jo Lewes grumbles as she pulls her back to the ground.

"Probably," Birdy agrees. "Y'all finally made it back I see."

Rolling her eyes, Katy-Jo Lewes scoops up some water and rubs her face clean.

Half an hour later they're crammed in the big room on the bottom story of the house.

The big room takes up most of the lower floor, only yielding to the kitchen in the back. It's got trampled, threadbare carpet and mold growing under the faded and peeling wallpaper, smells musky, and has no glass in any of the great windows on the north side, but Momma Muetter likes to use it for meetings. Corralling the kids in it is the only way she's guaranteed their attention.

"Tomorrow you will be on you best behavior," she tells them sharply, shifting one of the toddlers on her hip. "I've got to stay here with the little ones. The Peacekeepers will be taking you and I don't have to tell you they won't be as forgiving as I am."

And seeing as Momma Muetter whips them with regularity, that's not much comfort.

"We've got Reaping clothes pulled out for you. I don't want any whining about them. We won't get any new clothes for another year so we just have to make do with them. I've got some thread and needles, so if you can fix them with those go right ahead."

She shouts out some more news, what time they'll leave and that they need to stay in groups of four and five, before her voice softens and she smiles weakly.

"I hope I see all of you back here tomorrow evening."

They're sent upstairs after that, to their rooms.

"Here Katy-Jo Lewes, Birdy," Lizzy Marsen says as she passes them their dresses.

Bracing for the worst, Katy-Jo Lewes unfolds hers.

It's not really bad, other than being faded, the trim being a bit frayed, it even fits her well when she pulls it on. Not tight or baggy. Comfortable and loose, a nice sun dress almost

Feeling a bit more hopeful Momma Muetter was only trying to scare them, Birdy unfolds her dress.

Her heart stops the moment it's open on her lap. She doesn't know how she hadn't recognized the fabric from the second she touched it.

It's olive and faded, heavy, winter weight, long sleeved with yellowed lace trim.

Hester's dress. Her sister's dress.

It shouldn't be a shock, she'd seen a boy wearing Matt's shirt the year before, only months after she'd watched her brother hang, but having Hester's dress across her lap sends a shock through her.

It seems like so long ago that Hester had been getting ready for the Reaping, assuring Birdy she and Matt would be back.

"It's only the eighteen year olds that have to worry."

"I know, Hetty," Birdy grumbled.

"You should go gig some frogs tomorrow night," Matt had cut in, grinning. "Won't be as many Peacekeepers around. You can probably hunt that big pond over near the shanty even. There's some huge ones there. Then we can fry them when we get back."

They had, because of course they'd come home. There was no question about that.

Two days after the Reaping Matt and Jobe had fried the frogs Birdy, Katy-Jo Lewes, and Jessup had killed and Hester had fixed a rip in her Reaping day dress.

"Just because it's hot and ugly doesn't mean I have wear it torn up," she'd said.

"Anything you wear is pretty cause it's you wearing it," Jobe had squeaked, his voice stuck between a boy's and a man's.

He'd turned scarlet after that, as the others had made kissy noises, asked him when he was proposing.

It had only been a few weeks later, after the Games had ended, that someone else noticed Hester was pretty too.

The sisters had been coming back from town, laughing about something Austin the councilwoman's son had said, when the Peacekeepers grabbed them.

They'd told their supervisor Hester solicited them, but she hadn't. She'd begged them to let her go. Birdy had begged them to let her sister go.

"Please!" Birdy had sobbed, struggled to get away from the burly woman Peacekeeper that had her pinned to the ground, keeping her from helping Hester. "They're hurting her!"

Hester's screams had been so loud, so painful, Birdy knows someone had to have heard her. No one came though. No one helped.

"Finished," the big man, bald, Peacekeeper had grunted, adjusting his pants as two more crawled out of the ditch.

"Took you long enough," the woman mumbled, taking her foot from Birdy's chest.

"She was insatiable," one of the laughed.

The second she could take a full breath, Birdy had scrambled away, tumbling off the road into the ditch. She'd nearly landed on Hester.

Birdy had been too shocked for several seconds, barely recognized her.

She'd been bloody, so bloody. Her eyes were swollen, bloodshot and blackened, dark hair tangled and covered in rust colored dust.

Her dress was shredded, and she'd tried to cover herself, but there wasn't enough left.

"Hester?"

For a moment she hadn't seemed to hear her, then she vomited.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, shaking, wiping her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Hester," Birdy felt her eyes swelling with tears. It hadn't been Hester's fault, it was Birdy's fault. She was too small. She hadn't been big enough, strong enough. "No, Hetty, I'm sorry. I couldn't help you."

Birdy had wrapped her arms around her, held her and cried, until the sun sank into the earth and the stars blanketed them. She just wasn't strong enough to drag her back.

It was well past midnight before Matt found them.

"We've been looking all evening for you," he'd chuckled, thinking they'd fallen in a hole or simply broken a broke and were too injured to walk.

It wasn't until he'd crawled into the ditch, squinting in the moonlight, that he'd seen the truth was much worse.

Never in their life had Matt been so quiet as he had been as he'd carried Hester back to the home.

"These things happen sometimes," Lizzie had told them as Katy-Jo Lewes and another girl helped Hester get cleaned up. "Remember Rebecca? They kept giving her the looks so she made a job of it. Went to the Seat to work in a brothel."

"They weren't looking, Liz," Matt snapped. "They almost killed her! She's fifteen!"

"Well they at least paid," Lizzie snapped back, holding out a few coins. "She had a death grip on them. Maybe she takes after your mother more than just looks."

Birdy thinks Matt's teeth cracked he ground them so hard.

It happened so fast Birdy almost missed it.

Matt slapped Lizzie's hand, sent the coins flying across the room, clattering noisily before getting within an inch of her face, voice low.

"I don't care if she had a thousand coins in her hand, she didn't ask for this."

Birdy had silently nodded, glaring at Lizzie, hating her for the insinuation.

They'd stayed at Hester's bedside, as she'd drifted in and out of consciousness for hours, before Matt finally asked what happened.

He'd sat silent, his expression unreadable, as Birdy tearfully recounted every painful moment, until finally his mouth settled into a firm line.

"We fix Hetty up and then we'll deal with those bastards," he told her.

It was only two days later that they'd woken to find Hester hanging from the old tree in the backyard of the home.

There'd been no fixing her. Some things can't be fixed.

"You can show me which ones it was?" Matt had asked, after they gently cut her down, buried her out in the old cemetery beside their mother and baby brother Cliff, next to the empty grave with their dad's name on the stone.

Birdy nodded.

They'd told the Supervisor, a slovenly man with a bulbous red nose, but he'd just chuckled at their pain.

"She got paid didn't when? Next time she'll need to solicit fewer at once."

Matt's color had darkened and his gray eyes hardened, and Birdy half expected him to take a swing at the old man right then and there.

"She's dead," Matt told him, voice flat, dead.

"Problem solved then."

He'd waved them off. Their pain and loss no concern of his. They were just a resource and their lives meant nothing.

"Go back to the home," Matt told Birdy as he'd walked off, eyes cold with a strange kind of determination.

It was the last time she'd seen him before they'd called everyone to the town center for his execution.

"For the crime of murder," the haggard looking Peacekeeper had shouted from the platform, as another pair of white clad men shoved Matt to the stool and put the rope around his neck. "Matthew Alameda, Austin Lindsey, and Robinson Cross will hang until death."

They'd stolen some horses, killed all four Peacekeepers that had hurt Hester by dragging their worthless bodies behind them. It took three days to gather up all their parts from the road where they'd bounced and tumbled apart.

It was a fittingly gruesome end for such awful people.

No one tried to intervene, just like Hester, even if anyone cared, they knew there was nothing they could do. Matt's fury had been too much. Nothing would've stopped him.

Matt had given her a small smile, an almost apology, just seconds before they kicked the stool out from under his feet.

Birdy had stayed in the center, watched her brother dangle until the sun vanished and Katy-Jo Lewes gently told her she needed to go home.

A shiver goes up Birdy's back as she pictures Hester still in the tree, the wind gently blowing her body in the early morning light, Matt's haunted expression as he'd looked up at her.

"That dress is going to be way too big for you," someone says, snapping Birdy back into the moment.

"What?" She asks, frowning at the dark material and trying to shake the vision of death from her eyes.

"It's too big for you," Katy-Jo Marsen says again, her eyebrows pinching together.

Shrugging, Birdy begins unbuttoning it. "Doesn't matter. You heard Momma Muetter."

This is her dress, whether she likes it or not.

#######

The wind whips through the old cattle car as it rattles along the rails south.

It still smells of cow manure, even though they'd sprayed them out only moments before loading them up with Reaping age kids and families.

They'd had to wake up before the sun just to make the trip. The kids from the home are unfazed by the discomfort of the hard wood floor of the cars. They don't have beds in the home, they're used to sleeping on the floor without blankets and pillows, and many of them fall asleep as the car rocks them on the ride.

Jessup's mouth hangs open as he snores, propped up against Jobe's shoulder, and Birdy and Katy-Jo Lewes take turns tossing paint chipped from the fading gold Capitol emblem at him.

"That might kill him," Katy-Jo Marsen tells them, giving them a reproachful look as her sister tries to untangle her gold curls.

"So will this Reaping if things go sideways," Birdy chirps and Katy-Jo Lewes snickers.

She doesn't speak to them again until they reach the District Seat.

"It's so big," she murmurs, blue eyes wide.

It's dull and dusty, all the buildings are faded from the sun, all the windows dulled by the dirt, but compared to their tiny town on the plains, it's breathtaking.

They roll past pens of cattle, pigs, goats, and chickens before grinding to a stop in a hot and smelly station at the center of the city.

"Spared no expense," Birdy grumbles, losing one of her too big shoes in a pile of manure just as she jumps from the cattle car.

She smears it off, but the smell lingers, following her as she makes her way with the crowd to the stockyard stadium.

"Are you hot?" Crispin asks, eyeing Birdy's heavy dress and wiping perspiration from his brow.

"Dying," she answers. "Soon as this is over I'm finding a water trough and dunking my head in it."

Crispin chuckles. "I'd toss those shoes in there too."

Birdy snorts. "Yeah."

She's glad he'd volunteered to come as one of the Peacekeeper escorts for the kids. He isn't strict like the others, and he talks to them, treats them like kids, not prisoners.

"After the Reaping, can we go find the wranglers?" Birdy asks him. "My dad's crew was always in town during the Reapings and I wanna see if my friend Jefferson is here. I haven't seen him in years."

And if she's lucky he might let her take his horse for a ride. It's been ages since she got to take a horse out for a run.

"We'll see, kid," Crispin answers.

As they come up on the stadium, Lizzie rushes importantly to the front of the group and shouts directions.

"Eighteen year olds to the far left! Seventeens are beside them! Sixteens beside them! Fifteens besi-"

"I think they can figure it out from there, Lizzie," Crispin tells her gently before waving a gloved hand toward the crush of children jockeying for their places in their age lines. "Go on kids."

Birdy gets knocked around as she weaves between taller children's legs, the Katy-Jo's and Jessup fighting to keep up with her.

It's nearly half an hour before they make it to the front of the line where an elderly lady squints down at a smudged paper as she searches for their names.

"Alameda, Alameda…" She runs a finger down her list. "O-L-"

"A," Birdy corrects her. "A-L-A-M-E-D-A. And Phoebe with a 'P'."

"Oh!" The old woman chuckles, flipping through pages, back to the front. "Here you are, deary. Alameda, Phoebe."

She pricks Birdy's finger and smears some blood on another piece of paper before waving her through.

"No, no, L-E-W-E-S," Katy-Jo Lewes spells her name for her old lady.

"Pronounced 'lose'," Jessup chimes in. "Like a 'loser'."

"Shut up."

"And what's your name, young man?" The old woman asks Jessup, once Katy-Jo Lewes is past.

"Jesse Upearly," he answers.

"Upperly," the old lady repeats. "U-P-P-"

"They need a better process," Birdy tells Katy-Jo Lewes as they walk away, toward the girls' side of the stadium.

"We need to cull some old folks is what we need," Katy-Jo Lewes grumbles.

They end up at the back of their corral, half pinned to the metal fence, shoving for room as they wait for everyone to get herded to the right spot.

Birdy crawls up the fence and settles on the bar, squinting up and around at the scene.

The stadium stretches up around them. People, families, are shuffling around in the risers, searching for places to sit on the hot metal benches.

Around her, fewer and fewer children are trickling in, so she assumes they must be nearing the start of the ceremony.

She's seen the Reaping on the big screens set up across the District her entire life, but she's never attended in person, and the scope of it is a little overwhelming. She's never seen this many people in one place before, all dressed in shades of summer green…

The wonder of the moment is cut short by the screech of a microphone falling from the stage.

"Oopsy!" Lineus Flux, the District Escort, shouts, his orange lips stretched into a bright smile as he tries up upright the microphone, dropping it again before Tommy Brandsetter, one of District Ten's Victors, rushes up and fixes the stand.

Lineus, from what Birdy can see, is dressed like a rodeo clown.

Lime colored, pearl snap shirt, aqua colored jeans held up by a diamond studded belt, and boots that appear to be made from some kind of snake skin, he probably thinks he looks every bit the wrangler. It's almost sad, and if he weren't so obnoxious, Birdy would wish someone would take pity on him and tell him his loud clothes are the stuff of nightmares.

Behind him, talking amongst themselves, are the Victors.

There are only three left. Just the two years before Tomas Walkup, their first Victor, had died, leaving Coraline Lons, Tommy Brandsetter, and Mary Jacson as the District's guardians.

They're all dressed in green, just like the rest of the District, though their outfits are a far cry from the hand-me-downs and ragged second hand outfits most of the kids in the Reaping corrals are stuck with.

"That is a nice dress," Katy-Jo Lewes says, squinting up at the stage. "I'd look so good in a dress like that."

"That dress costs more than we'll ever see in a lifetime," Birdy reminds her.

"Still, nice."

"Get off there!" A Peacekeeper snaps, shoving Birdy from the barrier and onto Katy-Jo Marsen.

"Sorry."

Katy-Jo Marsen doesn't seem to hear her, just looks around fretfully.

"Twelve year olds never get picked," she half chants to herself, chewing her lip, before taking notice of Birdy. "Right?"

"Right," Birdy agrees.

Katy-Jo Lewes nods. "Calm down. I thought your sister rubbed lavender on you?"

"She did."

Sighing, Katy-Jo Lewes wraps an arm around Katy-Jo Marsen's shoulder and tries to calm her down while Birdy tries not to roll her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District Ten," Mayor Stahl's deep voice suddenly booms through the air, silencing every voice. "I would like your full attention as Commissioner Mills recites the history of the Games, in case anyone has forgotten."

There's no trace of irritation in his voice, though Birdy knows he probably hates the annual reading as much as the rest.

A tall woman, Sorghum Mills, Ten's Commissioner of Tesserae and Human Resources, steps to the lectern and clears her throat as she squints out at the sea of green around her.

Her grim expression never changes as she speaks, first repeating the history of the uprising and the dark days, then pulling out the Treaty and tonelessly reading it.

"Good luck to everyone," she finishes. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

Her shoes echo in a hollow sort of way as she steps away and takes her spot next to the Mayor and his wife.

"Howdy y'all!" Lineus Flux shouts brightly into the microphone, waving a pink cowboy hat at the crowd. "How's everybody doing today?"

He waits, looking fully expectant of a cheerful response despite the fact that in his seven years as the escort no one has, before chuckling.

"I know, I'm so excited I can barely speak myself!"

Oblivious to the fact that everyone is hot and miserable, desperate for a breeze of wind to break through the thick walls of the stadium, and doesn't want to have a conversation with him, Lineus twitters on, talking about his outfit and new boots.

"And I picked the snakes they made the boots from myself," he finishes, looking very pleased with himself. "But enough pleasantries, let's get to the main event!"

Mayor Stahl and Commissioner Mills push out a pair of enormous barrels, turned on their sides and freshly painted gold. The Reaping hopper.

"Pearls before swine!" Lineus shouts as he reaches out and begins spinning the barrel.

It spins at a dizzying rate for something so big, and for half a moment Birdy wonders if she could fit inside.

She's so preoccupied that she doesn't realize when the barrel stops and Lineus flips open the little door at the center and reaches in.

A name echoes through the stadium, but Birdy misses it, still focused on the enormity of the hopper and the fact that she could fit inside. It isn't until the name is called again that she breaks the trance.

"Who'd he call?" She asks, frowning and standing on her toes, squinting up at the eighteen year old corral despite the fact she can't see it from the back. "Katherine-Jo, who'd he call?"

Looking over, feeling a little annoyed she isn't answering and wondering if maybe it was Lizzy Marsen and Katy-Jo Marsen has fainted, Birdy frowns when she sees the looks on both Katy-Jo's faces.

"What?"

"Birdy?"

Turning, she finds Crispin at the fence, his forehead deeply wrinkled as he stares at her.

"Phoebe Alameda!" Lineus calls out again, his voice straining to stay chipper. "We are waiting, young lady!"

It takes her another second to register what he's said.

"But-Crisp, I'm Phoebe," she finally says.

Crispin's lips twitch up into a weak smile and he nods. "I know, kid."

He jerks his head toward the gate and Birdy numbly walks to it as the other girls back away from her, as if she's diseased.

Across from her corral, she spots Jessup, face bloodless as he stares out at her disbelieving.

The too big shoes nearly trip her up as she passes Jobe's corral. His red hair is twice as vivid against his skin as normal as he watches her pass. She hears Lizzy sobbing at the seventeen year old gate before she reaches the stage and Crispin gives her a nudge toward the steps.

Before she even gets her leaden feet up the first step, Lineus reaches down and yanks her up, making her lose one of her shoes.

"And here she is!" He grins wildly, sweat hanging in his hair. "I'm guessing you're Phoebe, am I right?"

Stepping back from him, almost tripping, Birdy grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Ha!" Lineus yanks her to the middle of the stage and pushes her toward the front.

"All right, ladies, any volunteers for our little Phoebe?"

Birdy wishes he'd have given her a chance to tell him not to bother. Ten has never had a volunteer, and she knows there isn't a chance she'll be the first to get a reprieve.

Looking out at the corrals, Birdy sees Lizzie at the center of the eighteen year old girls.

For half a heartbeat Birdy thinks she might raise her hand and volunteer, but just as quickly as the thought forms, it evaporates.

Not so much as the wind answers him.

"No one?" He smiles down at Birdy, his orange lips stretched tight. "Looks like you're going to the Capitol, you lucky girl."

Birdy doesn't smile back, just gives him a vaguely ill grunt as he shoves her behind him and goes to the second barrel.

"Now for our young man!"

It's stopped spinning before Birdy can even form the prayer that he doesn't grab Jobe or Jessup's name.

"Angus Wyatt!"

The name echoes and Birdy lets out a relieved breath. She doesn't know the name.

A boy emerges from the fourteen year old section.

He's tall, at least two heads taller than Birdy, has curly, strawberry hair that's dripping with sweat, and looks a bit green and clammy.

Watching him, Birdy feels her stomach drop. He'll crush her like a bug.

"Angus, welcome! Welcome!"

Once more, Lineus asks for a volunteer, and once more, not so much as a gust of wind answers.

#######

The room in the Justice Building is frigid. The hair on Birdy's arms stand on end. She supposes that's fitting. She'd read once they kept dead bodies cold before burial. That's all the Capitol is doing she supposes.

Her fingers run over the velvet material of the sofa, making designs in it, writing her name, and wondering how many others had and would do the same over the years.

The door quietly opens and her friends spill in.

Katy-Jo and Lizzy Marsen fling their arms around her.

"It's all right," Birdy murmurs, trying to sound convincing even if she doesn't feel it herself. She's dead already, even if she's still alive.

"No it's not!" Lizzy sobs.

"It's not all right! It's wrong!" Katy-Jo Marsen sobs.

"Don't, worry, okay? This is what happens, it was bound to be someone you knew eventually…"

"Maybe it'll be quick," Jobe offers somberly.

"Jobe!" Lizzy looks horrified, began sputtering, "How can you-why would you-that's-that's…"

Her eyes well up and she covers her mouth, apparently too horrified to say just what she's thinking.

"He's right," Jessup nods, his face a faint shade of green. "It'll be better if-if you-you know?-go early."

He's right, Birdy knows that, even if it makes her feel ill to think about it.

The longer the Tribute stays in the Game the more violent, the more gruesome the death. It's really best to die early on, before anyone who bothered to care about you watched you slowly suffer to death.

"Maybe you can get one of the weaker Careers to off you during the bloodbath. You know, then they'll have a higher kill stat. Having a guaranteed kill might even make them willing to coordinate it beforehand. Make it quick and painless," Jobe offers, clearly thinking he's being thoughtful.

"True, but how do you know they'll keep their word and make it quick and painless?" Jessup asks, frowning.

"There's a dark cloud to every silver lining," Birdy mutters, insides swimming.

"What 'silver lining'? You'll be dead!" Katy-Jo Marsen half shouts, panicking and pulling at her hair, pressing her face into her sister's side. Lizzy pulls her closer while giving everyone in the room a mortified look.

"But less painfully so," Jessup reminds her.

The room goes silent after that. All they seem capable of doing is staring at her, letting the silence grow thicker and more uncomfortable as the minutes tick by.

Finally, a Peacekeeper comes in and tells them time is up.

They shuffle out, giving her somber goodbyes. It isn't until the door shuts that Birdy realizes someone hasn't left.

Katy-Jo Lewes chin quivers and her eyes shine, giving Birdy the sinking feeling she's about to cry, and she can't take one more crying person.

"That was awkward," she waves a hand at the door, hoping to break the awkwardness. "The Marsens have really got to get a grip on themselves."

Katy-Jo Lewes nods, the edges of her lips twitching up. "You've been a good friend, Birdy. My best friend. I won't forget you. Promise."

"Thanks," Birdy sniffles.

She refuses to cry, at least not until she knows no one will see her.

Swallowing down a sob, she forces a smile.

"Katy-Jo Lewes, will you try, when they bring me back, to make sure they put me with my family? I don't know if they might try and put me in a special plot for Tributes, I've never really heard what they do with the b-bodies." Her voice cracks and she quickly forces down the pain bubbling up in her chest. "You split my stuff with Jess. Anything you two don't want can go to the others, alright? And let Jobe know he can have my gig, okay?"

Katy-Jo Lewes nods.

The Peacekeeper comes back in, glaring at Katy-Jo Lewes. "I said time up."

Before Birdy knows what's happened, Katy-Jo Lewes has flung her arms around her neck and is squeezing her tightly, tears dripping off her cheeks and into Birdy's hair.

"You're my best friend. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you."

Shrugging, Birdy chuckles wetly. "Have a lot less fun, that's for sure."

Pulling back, Katy-Jo Lewes wipes her face, smearing tears across her face. "I'll see you on the other side, Bird."

Forcing her smile a little brighter, Birdy nods. "Yeah, see you, Katy"

#######

"You afraid, little bird?" Crispin asks when he comes for her.

His eyes are a little pink as he squints down at her as they walk down one of the back halls of the Justice Building toward the awaiting train.

Her first thought is to ask him how he got roped into escorting her to the train, but decides against it. It isn't important and she hasn't got much time for silly questions.

Instead, she shakes her head bravely. "Nope."

His mouth turns up. "No?"

"No," she sighs, musters up what little bravado she has left after seeing her friends for the last time. "Little annoyed. Had plans, you know? Frogs to gig...'cause they're pests."

He chuckles. "Yeah, pests." He stops, eyes shining. "Maybe when you come back."

Birdy stops too, gives him a small smile. "Don't be dense, Crispy. I'm not coming back."

It's a one way ticket. More for her than most. She's small and young, the odds are not in her favor.

"You might. Every Tribute has a chance."

"You're joking, right?" She shakes her head. "Being a Tribute doesn't give me a chance any more than dressing like some kind of unicorn vomit cowboy makes Lineus a wrangler."

He knows that. He has to know that.

"Birdy," Crispin frowns at her, "listen to me." He blinks, takes a ragged breath. "Don't give up. No," he puts a hand up to halt her protest, "I mean it. You're smart, too smart for your own good sometimes. You've got as much chance as anyone. Use that to your advantage."

He sounds almost desperate and Birdy wishes he wouldn't. He shouldn't pin his hopes to her. She's a lost cause.

She wrinkles her nose, frowns at him. "Why do you care, Crisp?"

Even if he's kinder than the others, he's still a Peacekeeper. He's still one of them and she's still just one more disposable kid from an outlying district.

He frowns down at her, apparently arguing something with himself, before sighing. "You remind me of my sister. She was a Career. Volunteered. Died."

"Aside from my impending death I don't see us having much in common."

He chuckles wistfully. "I think it's that…quick wit."

"Pity I'm going to the Capitol then, huh?" She squints. They were standing in the shadowed doorway opening to the ramp that leads up to the train. Angus is already there, looking less ill, but still sweaty. She shoots Crispin a slight smile. "It'll all be wasted on them."

Crispin squeezes her shoulder. "Don't give up yet, kid."

She can't bring herself to let him down, not now, while she can see him break. She'll do it eventually, but she won't have to watch it at least.

Instead of telling him it isn't a matter of giving up or not, there's only one way for this story to end, Birdy just nods and gives him a smile.

With that she steps out of the shadow and onto the wooden ramp, walking with deliberate steps up to the train.

Lineus is standing and waving, beaded fringe on his arms shaking violently with the motion. She hadn't noticed that before.

"Off we go, my little cow-patties!" He giggles as he gives their shoulders a push, turning them to board the train.

Angus gives her a tight little nod and she returns it as they step onto the train.

Belatedly, Birdy remembers she's only got one shoe.

As she considers flinging the remaining shoe off, one of the beads on Lineus' arm hit her in the eye and she wonders if it would gain her sponsors if she pushed Lineus Flux under the train before the games even start.

At the very least the fashion world would thank her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply

The stockyard has barely slipped out of sight when she's grasped painfully by the shoulder and pulled down the long hallway.

Lineus chatters away, not caring if either Tribute is listening.

"…and this is the young-ah-lady's room."

He waves one of his obscenely colored arms at a dark wood door and pushes Birdy toward it.

"Now, go get cleaned up. We can't have you smelling like a couple of filthy goats can we?"

"I think that's cow shit, actually," Birdy tells him dully. "I stepped in some. It's still on my shoe."

Because of course she'd lost the clean one.

Lineus cringes as he glances at her single shoe before walking away, muttering to himself.

"I don't think he likes you," Angus tells her as he watches the escort retreat from them.

"Huh, If only I cared." Birdy shrugs.

Chuckling nervously, Angus holds out his hand. "Gus."

The name doesn't fit him, not any more than 'Phoebe' fits her.

'Gus' sounds like a name for someone much less bronzed and tall. Not the near full grown man that's standing in front of her.

Still, it's his name, and it's not really the time to change it.

Taking his hand, Birdy shakes it. "Birdy."

He smiles and points to the door. "Well, Birdy, better get the cow shit outta your hair."

Snorting, Birdy rolls her eyes and pushes the door open as he heads toward the next door across the hall from her.

The room is enormous, twice as big as the room she shared with the other children at the home.

It's too big for one little girl, even one on her way to die.

Taking a step further in, she feels a lush rug under her shoeless foot. It's red, darker and richer than the clay deposits scattered through the district. Darker than blood. Unnatural.

Shaking her head, she looks around the room.

The bed is as tall as her, several times bigger than the feather bed she'd shared with her brothers and sister a lifetime ago. The comforter looks thick, covered in gold leaves stitched across it, so big it hangs off the edges of the mattress, and the pillows stacked at the top are twice the size of any pillow she's ever seen in the general store in town.

Everything is too big, too soft, too much.

Brushing past the bed, she steps into the bathroom.

It glistens, unnaturally clean. The periwinkle tiles in the shower glitter like diamonds and the lights above the ornate silver mirror give off a soft glow. Birdy inspects the tub, deep with round hollows on the sides that when she pushed one of the shiny metal buttons along the front, spurts out warm water that smells like freshly cleaned laundry.

She plays with the buttons for a few minutes, finding a lavender smell and filling the tub before peeling off her dress.

For a second she holds it, staring at the rough material and finding the small line of stitching, the repair she'd watched her sister do a lifetime ago. Running her fingers over it, she sighs before tossing it into the corner.

Soon enough, she'll be with her sister. The dress can burn for all she cares.

The heat of the water seeps in her bones and the lavender eases her mind the second she's in the tub.

Her chest gets heavy suddenly, eyes well, chin quivers...

Then the dam breaks.

She cries and cries, so much it's a wonder the tub doesn't overflow with tears.

She's going to the Capitol and she's going to die. They're going to kill her, all because she's alone. Just because she's small.

It's unfair, she thinks bitterly as the tears keep coming. It was supposed to be an eighteen year old…

It wasn't though. It's her, and no one is going to save her. Death is dragging her towards its mouth, and all she can do is dress for the occasion.

Finally, her eyes stop stinging and the tears dry on her cheeks so she ducks under the water and rinses her face. She won't let anyone see her so broken and fragile. Being small is enough of a liability. Being weak is something she can avoid, or at least fake not being.

She's crawls out, probably cleaner than she has been any day since she was born, and takes a deep breath.

Wrapping one of the too soft towel around her, she goes back into the room and goes to one of the closets she'd seen earlier.

Flinging it open, she finds dresses and skirts and shirts of every color. All too big, of course. Not even the Capitol had expected a twelve year old.

After digging and pushing through the more outlandish outfits, feathers and beads, manufactured leather and silk, she emerges with a pair of jeans she has to cinch up with a belt and a cotton shirt.

Dragging them behind her, she goes back into the bathroom and pulls them on.

She frowns at her appearance. She looks no less like a little girl than she had earlier.

Sopping wet dirty blonde hair clings hopelessly to her head and tired green eyes stared emptily back at her. Somehow, she had hoped that saying her goodbyes and getting on the train would age her up, make her more formidable. Crying her eyes out would rid her of all the childishness.

All the shower and change of clothes has done, however, is make her look like a half drowned pup. With a sigh she pulls her wet hair up into a ponytail and heads for the dining car.

If she's going to die, she's going to die well fed. None of the rest matters anyways.

Gus is already there, sitting tall in the high backed chair, looking twice as impressive with his strawberry hair clean and combed. Birdy gives him a tight smile then deposits herself in the empty chair next to him.

"Ah! I see Miss Alameda has finally decided to join us," Lineus, mercifully changed out of his eye searing outfit and into a feather covered monstrosity, glares at her.

Blinking, Birdy almost snaps at him that she can stay in her room until they get to the Capitol of she like, it's none of his business, but stops herself.

He's just playing his part.

There's no need for outright rudeness, her mother had always told her.

"Besides," she'd said, "you never know when someone might come in handy."

It's a bit selfish, being kind in anticipation of a payoff, but seeing as they were rocketing toward death, Birdy finds herself not caring. Lineus might be able to make her more comfortable in her last days, that's enough reason she supposes.

Besides, he's only interacting with her because he has to, because she was unlucky enough to have her name drawn. He's using her too.

It's a mutual thing, she'll just do it better.

"I'm sorry. Were you waiting on me?" She give him as contrite an expression as she can muster. "I was just so dirty. I didn't want to get my grime all over."

She sounds so sincere, she almost believes she's sorry herself.

"Oh, dear child!" Lineus coos as he bounces over and pulls her into a hug. "Of course you wanted to be clean! I completely understand! I was only in the district for a few hours and had to absolutely scrub to get clean, I can only imagine how hard you had to rub-what with living your whole life there!"

He pats her on the head and gives her a condescending smile, every blindingly white tooth showing in his broadly stretched mouth.

"What a dear, dear child!" He continues to coo as he leaves to go and get the Victors from wherever they're hiding.

"What was that?" Gus frowns at her.

Shrugging, Birdy reaches past him to a bowl of what look like some kind of berry.

"Trying to earn a few last perks."

Gus' mouth opens, as if he plans on asking something else, when the door to their left slides open again.

Coraline Lons, Tommy Brandsetter, and Mary Jacson slowly appeared through the entry.

Despite having been out in the sun and boiling heat, they're still dressed as they were during the Reaping. There are no sweat stains on their clothes though, their hair isn't flat or greasy, and their makeup appears as perfect as ever.

Chalking it up to Capitol magic, Birdy continues to eat her berries and stare at them expectantly.

Coraline Lons is the first to speak, her voice almost like a purr. "You must be Angus and Phoebe."

Birdy's mouth beats her good sense. "Wow, no wonder you're a Victor with deductive skills like that."

Miss Lon's smile doesn't falter as she drops into one of the seats across from Birdy and Angus, followed by Mary Jacson and Tommy Brandsetter on either side or her.

They exchange a tense look, almost as if they aren't ready to do what they have to, before pressing on.

"Well," Mr. Brandsetter runs a hand through his coppery hair, completely undoing the gel someone had molded it into, "tell us about yourselves. Angus?"

"Gus." Gus frowns over at him, "I go by Gus. People only call me Angus when I'm in trouble."

Birdy snorts. "Well I'd say we're in more trouble now than we ever been."

The three Victors stare at her, frowning slightly.

Shrugging, Birdy gives them a half-hearted smile. "Well, it's true. We just got a death summons didn't we?"

They know that. No reason to pretend otherwise.

Miss Jacson's mouth twitches. "Kind've a smart-ass aren't you?"

"For a few more days at least."

That earns her another round of frowns.

"You go by Phoebe?" Miss Jacson finally asked her.

"Birdy, actually." She stands on her chair and takes a fork to jab at a pile of meats, precut and stacked some ways in front of her.

All that crying made her hungry.

"Do either of you have any skills?" Mr. Brandsetter tries again.

Gus nods quickly. "Yeah, um, I'm good with knives. I, uh, helped out at the slaughterhouse, dismembering the animals. I used to help shoe the horses, you know, things like that."

"Good. That's all good," Mr. Bandsetter says, trying to sound encouraging but coming off as anxious.

Miss Lons tilts her head to Birdy. "What about you, child?"

Chewing thoughtfully on her cold cut, Birdy thinks.

She really doesn't have any particular skill that would be useful in the arena, not by her estimate anyways. Not that it matters.

Her shoulders rise up and down quickly. "Dunno, not really."

What she can or can't do is irrelevant, in the end, it'll all add up to the same end.

#######

They spend nearly an hour discussing tactics, or, in Birdy's case, not. She already knows she isn't coming back. What point was there in talking about things to keep her alive when, for all intents and purposes, she's already as good as dead?

Tommy Brandsetter and Coraline Lons seem to accept her resignation and focused on Gus, who for some reason, thinks he's got a chance.

He might be right. He's good looking enough, tall, warm complexion, bright eyes, he might be a good protege for Finnick Odair. Gus might just have a chance.

Birdy doubts he knows what happens to pretty people when monsters get ahold of them, otherwise he might not be so eager to survive.

Still, it's his life. If he wants to be a Victor, she'll do what she can to get him there.

They need to even out their count anyways, since old Barnaby Walkup, their ancient, first Victor, jumped in front of that train the year before.

That, she decides, will be her purpose. Her last offering to her District.

Mary Jacson isn't done with Birdy, even if Birdy is.

"You don't mean that," she insists. "You can't possibly not care if you aren't prepared."

Birdy wrinkles her nose. "I'm not wasting what little time I have fighting the inevitable."

Her time is precious and she won't spend it spinning in circles and fretting. What will be will be. Gus is the priority.

Miss Jacson huffs. "Focus. You have to care."

"I don't."

The blonde bangs her forehead against the table, earning her concerned looks from her fellow Victors.

"You are infuriating," she glares over at the little girl. "How has no one strangled you in your sleep yet?"

Birdy thinks for a minute. "I'm extremely forgettable when I'm not around." She smiles brightly. "You'll see. Once I'm gone, you won't even remember me."

Miss Jacson's mouth gapes slightly and she looks on the verge of saying something, but gets cut off by Lineus bursting back in, still dressed in his coat of yellow chicken feathers.

"Time to scope out the competition, my lovelies!"

Birdy pulls a bowl of chocolate covered fruit towards her, not keen to leave the piles of food behind to see the people that will probably kill her.

"How about you watch and just give us your impressions?" She tells him, eating one of the chocolate fruit. "You've probably got quite a keen eye for these things anyways, right?"

He positively beams at her and Birdy is certain she's just earned herself at least another hour of eating when Miss Jacson yanks her fruit bowl away.

"Hey!"

"We're going to watch the other Reapings. We need to see the other Tributes."

Shoulders sagging and shooting an unmistakably disgusted look at Miss Jacson, Birdy hops off her chair and follows Gus and the others to where the large television is set up.

She slinks down in front of the couch and is surprised when Lineus sit in the chair adjacent from her and sits her fruit bowl down in front of her. He flashes her another toothy grin which she returns right before biting into a juicy chocolate covered strawberry.

Her assessment of the other District Reapings is the same as it has been for as long as she can remember.

Volunteers in the Career Districts and a gaggle of unexceptional and frightened children from the rest.

Their own Reaping is fairly boring as far as Birdy can tell. Other than her being the youngest Tribute of the year, they're forgettable.

"Well that was just exciting," Lineus claps his hands and looking around expectantly.

When no one responds, he looks down at Birdy. "What did you think, my dear?"

She pretends to give it deep considerations.

"Actually, I was stuck on District One." She shakes her head. "I mean, who in their right mind names their kids Satin and Bullion? It's criminal."

Mr. Brandsetter and Gus snort.

"Stupid names, but they're still serious contenders," Miss Jacson frowns over at her.

"Well, yeah," Birdy wrinkles her nose. "They're both twice my size and have probably trained since they popped out of their mother's-"

"Ahem," Miss Lons cuts her off. "Perhaps the two of you should go to bed. You're going to have a very long day tomorrow."

Though disappointed, Birdy wanted to check out the other programming on the television-a novelty she'd never had-she trudges to her room.

Tugging on the most comfortable pajamas she can dig out, Birdy crawls into the too big bed.

She immediately sinks into the mattress.

"Not worth getting Reaped over," she mutters to herself as she tries to crawl out of the hole she's sunk into, wondering if she might be the first Tribute to die by suffocation in their bed.

She doesn't hear the door open, only looks up when she hears heels tapping on the wood floor around the rug.

"Having trouble?"

Birdy ignores her, struggling for a few moments more until she's up, breathless and safe on the mountain of pillows.

"I'm fine."

For a minute Miss Jacson stares at her, tilts her head as if she's studying her, platinum ringlets tumbling over her shoulder before she sighs and steps onto the rug, crosses to the bed, and sinks down on the end.

"Why don't you want to win?"

"Why should I" Birdy asks, trying to get comfortable in the pillows, wishing she'd leave.

"Don't you want to live?"

Birdy shrugs.

"I've lived twelve years and so far I'm not terribly impressed with it. I may not be too excited to die, but the alternative isn't all that appealing either."

Death is hardly going to be the worst thing to happen to her.

In fact, this is a blessing. It's all in the perspective.

She'll be with her family, out of the home, free. Not a bad trade. That's what she keeps telling herself.

Miss Jacson shakes her head. "You're a little young to be so jaded."

"Never too young to see the world as it is."

And as it is, Birdy sees it's miserable.

"So you're just going to lay down and let them kill you?"

"Oh, I dunno," Birdy shrugs. "Might do it myself. My family has a history of that."

"You have nothing to go back to? Nothing?" Miss Jacson's porcelain features crease, making her look like one of the glass dolls they sell at the general store that's been dropped and broken on the ground.

Birdy feels fear bubble up in her throat for a moment before swallowing it back down, brushing the feeling off as nothing.

"Not nothing." Birdy bits her lip. "But we all said our goodbyes."

She begins picking at her nails, blinking back more tears. She's done crying. She's made her peace.

"You think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I'm just a realist. I know what I'm going into and I know it's hopeless. I don't want to spend the last few days of my life miserable, I've done enough of that already."

She may be young, but she's not stupid. There's no walking away from this. There's no going home.

Miss Jacson flattens her hands on her silken dress against her thighs and stares at the ground for a long moment before turning back to Birdy with a small smile. "You're pretty smart for a little kid."

Birdy just shrugs.

Smart doesn't make a difference in the Arena.

Letting out a long breath, Miss Jacson gets up. "Get some sleep, Birdy."

Before she reached the door Birdy sits up, "Miss Jacson? Why do you care?"

For a minute she just stares at the door, and Birdy half expects her to not answer, before she turns and smiles, a little falsely. There's something wrong with her, something that seems a little too familiar, but Birdy can't quite put her finger on what.

"Why shouldn't I?" Her smile falters. "Call me Mary, okay?"

She looks much younger for a moment, a bit broken, and Birdy can't bring herself to say something rude.

"Yes, ma'am." She forces a smile. "Goodnight Miss Mary."

And with that the lights click off, leaving only moonlight and the loud silence to rock Birdy to sleep.

#######

None of Birdy's friends haunt her in her dreams. Her parents, Hetty, Matt, not even her baby brother Cliff…none make appearances. Lineus' horrid fashion doesn't even give her nightmares.

She's strangely rested, calm, when she wakes and goes to breakfast.

"What's this?" She picks up a strip of something fried and crispy, smells delicious, waves it at Mr. Brandsetter.

"Bacon," he answers. Then, noticing the confused looks on she and Gus' faces he clarifies, "It's, uh, you know, pig."

"Pig?" Birdy sniffs it suspiciously before biting of a small taste.

She devours the rest a moment later. No wonder the Capitol never leaves any of it as scraps for them, it's wonderful.

It certainly beats fried frog legs and snake.

"Beats gator," Gus tells her.

"Never had any." Birdy takes another bite. "Sometimes we get the drippings when they slaughter the goats."

She isn't fond of them, but the fat gives a decent flavor.

When they're half-way finished, Miss Lons and Miss Mary arrive and begin explaining about the Remake Center, their prep teams, and of course, their stylists.

"Wait, we'll have to be naked?" Birdy shakes her head furiously. "I don't do naked."

The looks the three Victors and Lineus give her suggest she isn't getting much say in the matter.

Before lunch the sun disappears over the horizon as they zip through a tunnel dug into the mountains surrounding the Capitol.

Despite herself, Birdy presses her face against the windows, strangely excited to see the glistening city that's controlled her life for so long. Then, in a flash, the sun reemerges and blinds her.

Gus gasps behind her, and Birdy blinks, trying to see.

It may be evil, sick, twisted, cruel, but it's also breathtaking.

Buildings, tall as the mountains, reach up and touch the pink evening sky. Their windows reflect the blinding light, almost diamond like, and Birdy wonders what kind of buildings they are. Businesses? Homes maybe? She can imagine the people she's seen on the television living in those glittering windows. Technicolor bees in a hive.

Cable transports shine and glided along in the distance, carrying people across the glowing landscape, and in the distance, she spots what look to be roads, crisscrossing with speeding lights of cars.

As they pull into the station, people, or at least what she thinks are people, appear.

Birdy's never seen so many colors, she didn't know so many existed. They never seemed quite so vibrant on the old televisions and the screens she's had to see them on.

District Ten is all natural colors, warms and cools, but natural. The Capitol's colors are electric and fluorescent, as unnatural as they come. Not even the wildflowers that dot the plains-red paintbrushes and purple butterfly weeds-can compete with the colors the Capitol people wear. They even seem to buzz, as if they've got power running through them, giving them life.

Hester had once read her and Matt a book about a strange, far off land called Oz, where a little girl got swept to after a tornado.

"And the great and powerful Wizard lived in the Emerald City," she'd told them.

The Emerald City had sounded wild and colorful, full of bizarre things.

Birdy thinks whoever designed the Capitol must've been thinking of that Emerald City when they'd built it. It certainly looks like a magical world from some twisted fantasy.

"Not in District Ten anymore," Birdy mumbles to herself as she steps back when the door to her left zips open.

"Come along, children!" Lineus chirps as he pushes them toward the exit.

Outside the train is even blindingly brighter than inside. Flashing of cameras and the glitter and sequins cause both Tributes to squint as they're shuffled through the crush of people.

"It's only Ten," someone says, causing another to sigh dramatically, but the people don't move, just continue to crowd around and snap pictures, poke and pull at their hair and clothes.

"Stop that," Birdy snaps, slapping a bejeweled hand away from her wrist, like a pesky bug.

Then, as quickly as it had started, the light and buzzing and crushing all stop.

A door swishes closed behind them, ending the noise and engulfing them in coolness. The same cold the Justice Building was filled with.

Birdy blinks and begins rubbing her arms to stave off the cold as Lineus continues pushing them down a long, dully lit corridor and deposits each of them into almost empty room.

Birdy inches in, picking up odd utensils and creams sitting on a small metallic table, sniffing some of the powders and cringing at most. She considers hiding some of the more lethal looking items, but decided against it when she remembers she's most likely being watched. They'd find them anyways.

Just as she's getting used to the unnatural hum of quiet, the door bursts open and three gaudily dressed people rush in,

It's a bit like being assaulted by a flock of great glittering birds. They twittered and trill, pick at her, gasping and tutting at her split ends and fretting over the shortness of her fingernails.

"And look at those things on her skin!" The tallest one, who looks like she's spent the entire day rolling in tinsel, shrieks as she points at Birdy's arm.

"My moles?" Birdy frowns in confusion, looking at the little brown bump on her forearm.

"They'll have to go."

"No." She steps back.

"Well at least she isn't as hairy as the last one," the one with cat whiskers tattooed on her face whispers loudly to no one in particular, ignoring Birdy's protests and tugging her back toward her.

"That'll make cleaning her easier!"

"What?" Birdy trips back into the cold table. "I'm already clean. I took a bath just last night."

"Those teeth," the third gasps. "So crooked. No fixing that though. Not on our time frame."

Birdy closes her mouth and hides her teeth.

The women giggle and grab her with their talon like fingers, pulling her toward a great tub already filled with pink foam.

In a fit of madness, Birdy begins kicking and clawing at them. She's had to wrestle piglets and catch chickens, these frilly monsters aren't more intimidating than them.

"She kicked me in the face!"

"My hair!"

"Sedate her!"

Before Birdy can twist away, she spots more people rush in at them.

With a stick and a sting, she feels her eyes get heavy, and then the world goes dark.

#######

When Birdy's eyes finally manage to squint open she's still in the sterile room with its cold white lights, empty walls, and frightening equipment. Now, however, she isn't in the clothes she'd arrived in. Instead, she's laying in a papery dress in the table in the middle of the room.

She crosses her arms, feeling exposed and cold, stares up at the ceiling and fights off tears. They won't spill out, she won't let them.

Whatever they'd shot her up with is probably still in her system and making her emotional, it's the only explanation.

Sitting up, she rubs her nose and blinks back tears, looks around for something to cover up with when the door flies open again.

A woman with orange skin and buttercup yellow, pixie hair skips in.

If they weren't in the Capitol Birdy would assume she's an alcoholic. Her eyes have the unpleasant glean of liver failure to them that Birdy's seen in many of the older wranglers who've partaken in homemade liquor a few too many times over the years.

Judging by the woman's step and altogether perky attitude, though, it's apparent to Birdy a drink might do her some good.

"You must be Phoebe!" Her voice is high, shrill, and Birdy can't keep from grimacing.

"Sure."

Clapping, she squeals again, "Oh goody!"

Skipping over to the table, she beams.

She's tall, very tall actually. Her tiny yellow tutu and skin tight top give the appearance of youth, but eyes show her age. The Capitol can't take years from there. She throws one hand out to her small audience. "I'm Ursula, and I'll be your stylist!"

Birdy winces at the pitch of her voice before taking her hand and muttering, "Fabulous."

The genuine lack of sentiment is apparently lost on Ursula as she trills on about how adorable she's going to make her and how she was just too precious for words. Birdy simply stares at her, unable to keep the irritation from expression.

Before she realizes it the prep team is back in the room, forcing her into a gingham dress of yellow and pink and wrapping a starkly white apron around her waist. One of them grabs her face, puckering her lips and smearing a thick goop on them while two others began braiding her hair down the sides.

"And now for the bonnet!" Ursula shrieks again before forcing a horribly pink bonnet over Birdy's head and ears, ties it under her chin in an obnoxiously large bow.

They spin her around and beam at their work as they allow her to take in her appearance fully for the first time. Her nose wrinkles

"You look absolutely…" The tinsel woman blubbers, positively bubbling with excitement.

Ridiculous. Birdy thinks to herself.

Her mouth pulled to the side, she turns her head to them.

"You realize we don't actually dress like this, right?"

#######

As it turned out, they didn't care what District Ten actually dressed like.

Patrice, the tinsel covered lady, constantly rearranges Birdy's hair under the bonnet and Bianca, the cat woman, shines her shoes at least seven times before the five of them finally leave the room.

"Gus won't be in pink and yellow too will he?" Birdy asks, not liking the idea of poor Gus being subjected to such awful colors as well. He's good looking enough to have a chance if they don't dress him like a rodeo clown.

"Oh no," Dionyza, who looks like an enormous blueberry, shakes her tight curls, "he'll be in masculine colors."

As they enter the arena through a wide tunnel, Birdy comes to a dead stop.

There are dozens of horse pairs hitched to little chariots, each set different, unique to the district they're assigned to.

Ten's pair are little paint ponies, quietly eating hay.

"What'd they do to you?"

Birdy roll her eyes and turns to find Gus. She immediately giggles when she gets a good look at him. "Like you made out any better."

His lips pull into a tight line as he glances down at his own clothes.

Electric blue and pumpkin orange gingham shirt with rhinestone buttons. His pants are simple jeans, and Birdy feels a twinge of jealousy that he gets to wear something so familiar and commonplace while she's forced to look like some freakish, overgrown doll.

His hat is in the form of the regular cowboy hats the wranglers wear, but still an unfortunate shade of blue with orange feathers decorating it. To top it off, it appears to be felt, all wrong for the summer.

A man who looks like Ursula's older brother begins fussing over Gus, adjusting his hat and straightening his shirt, dusting the rhinestones, as Ursula pushes Birdy up onto the chariot.

Lineus materializes beside the chariot, spouting off unsolicited advice so fast Birdy barely registers he's speaking a known language until he's done.

"Now, remember to smile, my little dears! You're both so adorable. You're bound to get sponsors."

Ursula and Gus' stylist twitter to themselves, exchanging a smug look.

"And with their outfits! Just precious!"

They bounce off, and Birdy finally spots Mr. Brandsetter and Miss Mary standing a few feet away.

"They're right," Mr. Brandsetter nods, stepping up and tapping the side of the chariot. "You look good."

"We look ridiculous," Birdy scoffs. Gus tugs at his collar, nodding his agreement.

"You don-" Miss Mary starts, but seeing the looks on their faces stops. "Okay, yes…you look a little, um…"

"Stupid," Gus offers, shooting a glare up at the brim of his hat.

"Atrocious," Birdy crosses her arms. "Like a pair of rodeo clowns. They think we actually dress like this!"

Mr. Brandsetter snickers at that and then shakes his head. "Just smile."

"Please." Miss Mary adds. "And wave a little."

"I can think of some better hand gestures," Birdy tells him with a snort.

Someone coughs, a little too forcefully to be real, from behind Miss Mary. She turns slightly and shoots the man behind her a look.

He's older, dark eyed and haired, ill-fitting wire glasses, but nice clothing. He smiles benignly as he continues his conversation with a wiry looking girl. Another District's Victor and Tribute.

Mary Jacson's mouth twitches slightly. "Don't encourage her Beetee. We're trying to get her to behave."

"And doing a marvelous job," he tells her, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Which is why we don't really need you laughing and making her think she's funny," Miss Mary tells him with a scowl.

Mr. Brandsetter snorts, then quietly mutters, "Was a little funny."

"Don't," Miss Mary quietly tells him before looking back at her Tributes. "You only think it's just your life you're playing with, but trust me, it isn't."

Birdy stares at her for a moment, a sick feeling swirling in her middle.

She doesn't have to ask if the Capitol would punish an entire district for one person's misdeed, they would, and she knows it.

Exchanging a grim look with Gus, Birdy nods.

No mischief. No trouble.

At least for now.

#######

Birdy struggles with her bonnet, flinging it off the moment they're out of the flashing lights of the cameras.

The chariot ride had been miserable. Her outfit was hot and itchy and the brim of her bonnet blocked her view.

And her face hurts from pretending to smile.

"I hope she's not in charge of what they ship my body home in," she mutters, earning a sharp look from Miss Mary.

"She is, actually," Mr. Brandsetter tells her with a yawn.

They ride the elevator up zooming past other floors and stopping at the tenth story.

When the doors open Birdy sniff, catching the unmistakable scent of leather in the frigid air.

Trailing behind the others, she takes in her newest surroundings.

Leather furniture, roughhewn wood tables, and wide paintings of prairie land hung artfully on the walls.

It's all familiar, but lacking something, as if someone had decorated it for comfort but wasn't quite sure what comfort meant.

They pass a long table with a bowl of fruit at the center, and into a large, basin shaped room with a television on the far wall playing repeats of the parade.

For half a second Birdy sees herself and Gus, smiling madly and waving from atop their chariot before the screen switches to another pair of Tributes who look every bit as falsely cheery as them.

Still, she hopes Gus gets a little attention. It'd be good for Sponsors, and if he wants to go home he'll need those.

"That was absolutely splendid!" Lineus squeals, practically dancing, the heels of his shoes clicking excitedly on the tile. "I think they really loved you!"

Birdy doubts they even saw either one of them. The girl and boy from One were barely clothed and she's fairly certain all eyes were on their gravity defying outfits.

He's almost childlike in his enthusiasm though, and no one seems to have the heart to dampen it.

"You two had better get to bed," he finally tells Birdy and Gus, after a good ten minutes of fawning over them and tripping over the end of his twin tailed coat. "You've got to be up bright and early!"

"Does he have to shout everything?" Gus asks once they're out of earshot.

"Probably, otherwise we'd never hear him over his clothes," Birdy answers.

Laughing, Gus nods before going through the first door.

"Night, Birdy."

Going a bit further, Birdy yawns as she finds the next door and starts to open it, but stops when she hears another open.

Turning, Birdy finds Miss Lons silhouetted in the door across the hall.

She hadn't been at the chariot parade, and Birdy momentarily wonders where she'd been.

Before she can ask though, Miss Lons steps closer, a little frown on her ruby painted lips, and Birdy knows just where she's been.

There's no mistaking the look in her eyes, Birdy's seen it a hundred times in the faces of the girls and boys picked to be entertainers for the Peacekeepers and government officials. The look she'd almost recognized in Miss Mary's eyes the night before.

It's the look she'd seen in Hester's eyes after the Peacekeepers had hurt her.

Broken. No chance of ever being really repaired.

"Did things go well?" Miss Lons asks, her voice not quite as warm as it had been just that morning.

Birdy forces a smile for her, nods.

Her ruby lips twitch up. "Good. Get some rest."

Nodding again, Birdy steps into her room and lets the door slide closed behind her, pushing Miss Lons and her empty eyes out of her mind. There's no helping her.

Like tesserea are the price the orphans pay for their place in life, whatever Miss Lons has been doing is the price of Victory.

Just one more reason not to want to fight.

Peeling the dress off, Birdy digs out a pair of pajamas and pulls several pillows off the bed, tossing them on the ground near the window before yanking the comforter off and wrapping herself in it and hopping to where she'd thrown them.

Outside, she can see neon lights, blinking and strobing, beaconing people into buildings. Someone shoots off a firework and she watches it explode in the sky, scattering into a million little lights against the dark sky, ersatz stars.

She doubts a single one of the people reveling on the street below her have ever even seen a real star.

Squinting, she looks down at the road below and can almost make out individual people dancing and running around, spinning in their too bright clothes.

For a moment she wonders who they are, how they could possibly be so happy when something so awful is about to happen on their television screens. The question vanishes a second later.

She's not human to them. She's a thing, entertainment, nothing more. Just like the Victors, she exists to bring them a flare of excitement, not to be a person.

It would be simpler, if she were just a thing. An animal with no more emotion than a frog.

Maybe, she thinks as she yawns, the frogs think the same thing about her.

Everything is a monster to something else. She's just finally seeing her monster face to face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply

"Have you thought about what you're going to work at?" Miss Mary asks them after Lineus very rudely wakes them the next morning when both Tributes refuse to get up.

Gus looks at his plate uncomfortably, shoveling several eggs into his mouth to avoid answering.

"Do we have to?" Birdy asks, gnawing on a piece of bacon.

The answer is, apparently, yes, at least judging by the irritable looks her question gets.

"Focus on survival skills," Mr. Brandsetter advises. "The Careers will capture all the food at the Cornucopia so you'll have to be able to support yourselves."

"But don't neglect fighting altogether," Miss Mary adds. "Long distance weapons will be better than anything hand-to-hand."

"You don't say," Birdy mutters to herself, causing Gus to choke on a piece of toast.

At ten till ten Lineus herds them downstairs to the gymnasium giving them a last few words of encouragement, though what exactly those words are Birdy isn't sure, she'd stopped listening to him half-way down the elevator.

"Good luck!" He chirpily tells them, pinching Birdy's cheek for good measure before vanishing back down a hall, toward the tantalizing smell of baking bread.

The Training Room is enormous, larger than any of the barns back in Ten.

High ceilings, padded floors, station after station with tools and weapons to try to better each Tributes' chances. It's all pointless to her.

She sighs at the prospect of a wasted day before looking at the other Tributes, lined up along a far wall and awaiting instruction.

Everyone is larger, taller than her, overshooting her by at least a head and the pair from Two look to weigh at least twice what she does, though they look a bit dim. Maybe their mothers dropped them a few times on their heads as babies.

Sighing again, she leans back onto the wall and slumps down onto the cold metal bench.

She's only minutes away from taking a nap when a man's sharp voice roughly rouses her as it calls them all to attention.

He introduces himself as Perseus and begins explaining the various stations around the gym, warning them against fighting with one another and encouraged them to utilize all the resources available.

His eyes settle on the Career Tributes.

"And I do mean all the resources. The elements will kill you if your fellow Tributes don't get the chance."

The big blond boy from Two just smirks, doesn't look too concerned, despite the direness in Perseus' voice. Birdy suspects he's never had to rough it, doesn't know just how harsh weather and dear old Mother Nature can be.

That's his problem though, even though Birdy doubts he'll be too troubled by poor conditions. Careers never venture far from the safety of the Cornucopia.

"What'd'ya wanna do first?" Gus asks, once they're dismissed.

Birdy shrugs noncommittally and makes a slight noise. She'd agreed to stay with him for the training, hoping to pass some of her minor skills to him. They might come in useful and she doubts she'll make it long past the bloodbath.

If he wants to live he'll need all the help he can get.

"Fine," he grumbles, going first to the fire station, then hammock making, and, before lunch break, climbing.

The trees are unfamiliar, and Birdy has the distinct feeling they aren't all indigenous to the Districts. Enormous bases on some and foreign bark on others, vines dangled down from the tops providing some form of aid to scale them, she wraps her foot in one of the vines and dangled upside down to swing lazily several feet up, grinning down at Gus.

They provide her no trouble, being smaller and lighter, but he's struggling.

"Maybe we can get the Careers to climb these things and," he huffs, red faced, but still grinning, "fall off."

Birdy sighs. "Wouldn't do any good, they'd just land on their heads."

Laughing, he loses his grip, falling several feet, flat on his back.

Unwinding her foot from the thick vine, Birdy quickly lowers herself from the trees and lands with a plop beside him.

"Hurt?"

He wheezes, nodding as he tries to catch the wind the fall had knocked out of him.

Sitting him up, Birdy waits for him to get his bearings before helping him up and heading to lunch with plans to try climbing again later.

She watches the other Tributes as they eat, noting the Twos are sloppy eaters, that the girl from One is picky, and the big blond from Six likes to gnaw on the bones of his meats, a bit like a feral dog.

"Lunch is over," the old man from the fire station tells them.

"Look at this," Birdy points to the station with a large screen on the wall and a keyboard below it.

There are plants to identify, fruits and berries to separate into poisonous or not, and bugs.

"Bugs?" Gus frowns. "Are we supposed to eat bugs?"

"They're okay," a brittle voice says behind them.

Turning, they find the girl from Three staring at them, her narrow face pinched in a frown.

"We eat them sometimes," she adds.

Birdy gags. "I'll pass, thanks."

"You'll starve then," the cranky woman manning the station snaps.

Not even turning back to her, Birdy rolls her eyes. "I doubt I'll live long enough to starve."

Gus ignores her and smiles at the girl. "What bugs are safe?"

Her pasty cheeks tinge pink and she steps up to the keyboard and begins explaining, her voice getting squeakier as she goes.

"These," she taps her skinny finger on half a dozen shiny beetles, "are safe, and good protein. They aren't usually those colors though."

Despite herself, Birdy listens and nods.

The plants are the same way. Birdy recognizes several, but they aren't quite right. They're very clearly familiar, but with deliberate color changes.

Like the nasty bugs, they're too bright. Their natural colors have been swapped out for fluorescents, making them look grotesque and fake.

Glancing around, Birdy looks at the trees shed bee climbing earlier and wonders if the electrified green of its leaves and vines is its natural state, or another Gamemaker manipulation, and wondering just what that means.

For half an hour they work on identifying plants and bugs before Birdy and Gus move on to the rope tying station, followed closely by the girl.

"We tried this earlier," she tells them. "I didn't like it so much."

"Why not?" Birdy asks, picking up one of the ropes and quickly weaving it into a honda before tugging the rope through and forming a lariat. "Ropes are easy."

Gus frowns at the cord in his hand. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Dad was a wrangler," she explains.

"So you can lasso a cow?" Laisa asks, pushing her stringy dark hair from her face and squinting at Birdy more closely, looking awed.

Instead of correcting her terms, there's no point, Birdy shrugs. "Yeah, sure."

She hadn't roped much in the past few years, but in a pinch, she's sure she could still do it.

Gus scoots closer, takes the rope from her and studies it for a second before handing it back.

"What else can you do?"

#######

The rest of the afternoon Birdy teaches them various knots and loops while the man supervising the station sits and does what looks to be a crossword puzzle.

"This is the hangman's knot," she shows then the miniature version of the noose they'd used on her brother. "It's nice 'cause the neck usually snaps quicker with it. More of a kindness really. Drop is still important though."

"Go over the strangler snare again," Gus prompts her, a length of cord already in his hands.

He's picked up most her lessons well, but he's been most focused on the snares, which was wise. They were the most useful.

Laisa nods, her knuckles white as she grips her cord. She hasn't been nearly as successful as Gus.

"Why can't they need us to wire something?" She muttered as her fingers fumbled.

Apparently wiring things has been her life for the past fifteen years. Carefully putting little insulated metal wires into the Capitol's electronics.

Poor conditioning for the Games, and she seems very aware of that.

"Just practice," Birdy told her, feeling a twinge of pity for the girl.

She'll be dead in seconds once the Games start.

"Watch me," Gus told her, his hands working much more slowly than Birdy's easier to follow, then he'd reached out and grabbed Laisa's hands, helped her tie her own cord.

"Thanks," she'd mumbled, face a rosy pink.

Birdy had rolled her eyes.

The Games were no place to get a crush.

"Okay-"

"It'll have to wait," the station trainer told them, his crossword in his lap. "Time up for the day."

Shuffling their feet, the Tributes leave the stations behind.

"Can we meet up tomorrow?" Laisa asks, wide eyed and anxious.

Birdy freezes mid step and looks at Gus.

Laisa from Three is asking more than just to help her with knots and plants. There's the implication of what spending so much time together means.

She wants an alliance.

There's worse people to ally with, like the weird boy from Six or the knuckle dragging pair from Two, but at least they aren't as hopelessly useless as Laisa. She has no skills, no confidence, and no chance of gaining either of the two.

Still, they're all as good as dead. Even if Birdy does her best, Gus really only has a slim chance of even making it to the final eight.

Birdy gives Gus a little nod and he grins as he turns to Laisa.

"Sure."

#######

She regrets the alliance within ten minutes of their next session.

Laisa takes their agreeing to work with her as agreeing to ally with her twit of a District partner.

Dash is greasy, lanky, and has a whining voice. From the first minute on the rock climbing wall, he's complaining about cuts on his hands and bruises on his knees.

"You know, once you're in the Arena bruises will be the least of your worries," Birdy tells him as she jumps from the wall and lands with thud on the padded floor.

"We aren't in the Arena yet," he huffs, pushing sweaty hair from his face and squinting around. "What next?"

Before anyone answers, someone screams and all attention goes to the wrestling pad.

The boy from Six is being pulled off the boy from Eight, blood smeared on his face as he snarls and spits, continues to try and grab the other boy.

"No biting!" One trainer shouts as another goes to the Eight and helps him up, inspecting his ear, know a bloody patch at the side of his head. "This is practice!"

Everyone watches as the boy, Titus, is dragged off, still making almost animal noises at the Peacekeepers charged with containing him.

They vanish out of the room with him for several minutes before returning with a much subdued Titus, now sporting a few bruises of his own.

Everyone keeps their distance from him after that.

As they sit at the camouflage station, Birdy absently swirls dirt paint and watches the Ones practicing with the swords across from them and keeping a wary eye on Titus as he lumbers around the piles of weights behind them.

Birdy knows nothing about sword fighting, but she knows the pair aren't doing very well as they clumsily swing at one another, bashing each other in the legs and knocking themselves over.

"They must be underplaying," she tells Gus, her lips twitching. "No Career is that awful at one of their bread and butter skills."

Gus looks up, ponders something for a minute, then chuckles. "Yeah, maybe it's part of a plan."

They exchange a serious look, then both break down in laughter.

Wiping away tears, Birdy snorts. "Careers with a plan. Gus, you're a funny guy."

Laisa and Dash, who'd both been so absorbed in their face painting, look over frowning.

"What?" Dash asks, squinting over at the Ones, clearly having missed the joke.

"Let's go to the gauntlet," Gus suggests, standing and brushing leaves and dirt from his pants. "We need to practice running."

Standing on her toes, Birdy sees the pair from Two still racing along, bouncing off the sides of what the trainers call the gauntlet, and shakes her head.

"I'm not getting any closer to those two than I have to," she tells the others. "I think they're inbred."

Gus snorts. "Oh yeah?"

Nodding seriously, Birdy elaborates. "Yeah, got that wild look. Like you see in the livestock when they don't get the herds mixed well. Makes them unpredictable. Dangerous. I'm not playing with that fire until I have to."

Rolling his eyes, it's clear Gus knows she's only trying to get out of training. Laisa and Dash seem to miss the jest again.

They both glance over their shoulders, looking fretfully at the Twos.

"Really?" Laisa asks, chewing her tongue. "You can see that kind of thing?"

Before Birdy tells her she's only telling stories, the trainers end the day's session and send the Tributes back to their apartments.

#######

The pairs from One and Two get in a fight the next day.

"They accused them of pretending to be weak," the boy from Five, Breaker, whispers as they watch the pairs being pulled apart. "Someone heard a trainer saying they were 'underplaying' and told the girl from Two."

Birdy stares at him blankly for a minute, before turning to a bewildered looking Gus.

Laisa nudges Gus' shoulder, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"You two said that too," she barely manages to whisper, missing the obvious.

Gus looks like he's about to tell her that he's pretty sure someone made a mistake and that it was him and Birdy and not a trainer at all who'd said anything about the Ones skill, but Birdy stomps on his foot and stops him.

If the other Tributes want to spread rumors like a bunch of school kids, why should they stop them? Especially not if it breaks up the Career alliance. Watching them try to survive on their own might be the only entertainment she's able to provide her friends back home.

Once the former allies are separated and guarded by Peacekeepers, the other Tributes begin their training again, but all they want to do is talk about the explosion between the Careers.

By the end of the day Birdy's managed to convince the girl from Eight that there'd been a torrid affair going on between the handsome boy from One and the girl from Four, and that the Twos are sibling-cousins.

No one questions how she might know anything. She simply attributes it to the trainers, who seem to be regarded as a sound source of information.

"Explains a lot," Breaker from Five nods. "And some of the trainers were talking about them being inbred too. I heard them."

"You may have just turned this Games into a Capitol program," Gus chuckles as they ride the elevator to their floor, finally letting Laisa and Dash in on the joke.

"I can't believe you broke the Careers up," Laisa says, her voice soft with wonder. "And you didn't even try."

"If that's my legacy, I'm okay with it."

Dash looks less impressed.

"We did it, really," he complains. "They heard us talking and spread it from there. You just-You just gave us the input."

"Which means we did it," Birdy chirps, grinning obnoxiously. "Don't argue with me, or I'll have everyone thinking you're still breastfed."

He calls Birdy some very creative words after that, and Laisa apologizes on his behalf when they get off.

"He doesn't really mean that," she whimpers, backing out of the elevator.

"Yeah, he does," Birdy corrects her, shrugging as the doors slide shut.

Dash's opinion of her means about as much as anyone else's at this point.

"Still breastfed, huh?" Gus snickers. "You should start that rumor."

"I might."

It'd be worth it just to hear the commentary if it made its way to Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith.

They're both laughing when the doors slid open and they're greeted by Lineus, dressed in deep purple fur.

"Oh good!" He shouts, taking them both by the shoulders and steering them into the dining area. "We were wondering when you'd get here."

Sitting at the table are both Mr. Brandsetter and Miss Mary.

Birdy hasn't seen much of either of them since training started, though she's tried not to think too much on where they may be.

She hasn't seen Miss Lons at all since the first night, she tries even harder not to think about where she may be or what may be happening to her. There's enough darkness in her life, she doesn't feel like looking for more.

Mr. Brandsetter looks much as he had when they'd arrived, though maybe a little drunker. Birdy wonders if maybe his life isn't quite so hard as the girls'. He isn't handsome really, with his heavily freckled, squishy face and stout body. He's got the build of the men that wrestle calves down, heavy and strong, not what the Capitol looks for in it'a trophies.

Miss Lons and Miss Mary, on the other hand, are his opposite.

Both tall, lithe, perfect skin, the picture of what the Capitol defines as beautiful.

Miss Mary's platinum hair doesn't shine quite as much as it had when they'd first arrived. It looks stiffer, faker, heavy with the smoke Birdy can smell clinging to her under the perfumes she's doused herself in. Despite her flawless makeup, there are dark areas under her eyes that not even Capitol magic can erase.

Despite her carefully concealed exhaustion, Miss Mary smiles.

"So, what do you two plan for tomorrow?"

Gus slumps into the chair, scratches his head. "Uh, I'm not too bad with the ropes now-"

"That's not very showy," Birdy points out. "You should throw the knives and gut one of the mannequins. That'll get their attention."

Blinking duly, Gus nods. "Oh, yeah…"

Mr. Brandsetter nods, giving Birdy a weak smile. "She's right. If you want a decent score you'll need to get their attention, and the more brutal the display the better."

Miss Mary frowns, her makeup creasing on her forehead. "And what do you plan on doing?"

It takes every ounce of self-control Birdy possesses not to roll her eyes. Just because she's willing to help Gus save himself, doesn't mean she's decided to put up a fight herself.

"Dunno, might take a nap."

"I'm serious, Birdy."

"So am I."

"She's a great climber," Gus cuts in, his voice a little high with anxiety. "Better than any of the others. Maybe she can do that."

It's a weak skill, but valuable. There's little showmanship in it though, it won't amaze the Gamemakers.

She doesn't care if she does though.

"Sure, I'll climb."

Lips pulled taut, Miss Mary looks like she might argue with her, but doesn't get the chance.

Lineus, apparently bored with the discussion, claps his hands.

"Good, and now that all that's cleared up," he waves for one of the silent kitchen boys, "I think it's time for a delicious dinner! They had a peacock brought in especially for the Tributes this year."

#######

Birdy doesn't eat much of the peacock, something about the display of its frilly, eyed feathers around its body makes it unappetizing to her.

It's too dry, almost sawdust in her mouth, and she almost asks one of the servers if they'd like her to come to the kitchen to teach them how to properly dress up a bird. She doesn't get the chance though because Lineus shuffles them to bed early.

"You need all your rest if you want to be at the top of your game tomorrow!"

Pulling the pillows and blanket from the bed again, Birdy tosses them to the floor by the window and starts to pull her clothes off, but stops when her stomach rumbles.

The handful of fruit and the overlooked bird hadn't been enough, and Lineus hadn't let them get dessert.

Pushing the door open, Birdy makes her way to the dining room.

It's empty, spotlessly cleaned by the servers, so she ventures further to the door to the kitchen.

They haven't been allowed in the kitchen, all their food has come prepared straight to them, so she frowns when she enters and finds it smaller than she expects and empty of even a stove.

Frowning, she squints around, into the dark, until she spots a chink of light coming from under what looks to be another door.

Deciding the servers must be in another room with the equipment, Birdy goes to the next door and finds it hasn't got a handle, but instead has a silver button.

When she pushes it the door noiselessly glides open, revealing an elevator as large as her room filled with bright light and the delicious smell of baking bread.

Shrugging, she steps on, and is immediately plummeted down, nearly knocking her off her feet.

It opens in less than a blink of an eye, revealing a kitchen that must occupy an entire floor of the Training Center.

Stepping out, Birdy looks around at the hundreds of ovens lining the walls, baking various dishes, before going to the table like stoves, all hot and sizzling with what she immediately recognizes as bacon.

Grinning, she reaches out to take a piece, but stops when she hears feet coming toward her.

Ducking down, she climbs under a tablecloth and onto a cart, putting her hand into a tiny iced cake.

As she licks it off, someone stacks platters on the top rack, then begins pushing the cart.

It rattles and shakes as it rolls, almost knocking Birdy off several times before it leaves the tiled and glides onto a seamless floor.

Wherever they are, it's not nearly as bright as the kitchen, the light barely glows through the tablecloth, and people are talking. Their voices are dull murmurs to her ears as she rides past them, the delicious smells of their dinner wafting to her as she finishes off the cake. It's not nearly sweet enough.

"I don't know where people get these ideas," a woman's dismissive voice huffs. "As if District One has ever had a plan that doesn't involve their clothing falling off."

"I'm just telling you what I heard," a deep voice replies.

The cart stops and Birdy watches the shadow of the server go to her left, so she ducks out and rolls to her right to avoid them and ends up nearly tangled in another, much nicer, tablecloth as she scuttles under a nearby table.

Flattening herself to the ground, Birdy peeks out from under the cloth and grimaces.

She's in a large room with a dark wooded bar and dozens of small tables with half burned candles at the centers of their delicate tablecloths. There are low, dimly burning lights in the sconces on the walls, and shaded lamps hanging over each table.

And sitting at the tables are people Birdy vaguely recognizes at Victors.

Their names escape her, she's never cared much for learning them, but she knows their faces from years of forced viewings.

Wherever she is, it's not for Tributes.

The only thing that keeps her from crawling out and avoiding trouble is the tantalizing smell of the Victor's food. Clearly the servers put more effort into their dinner than the Tributes.

The glory of Victory she supposes.

Stomach making another irritable noise, Birdy crawls out from under the table and peeks over the top.

It's covered in food.

Pushing away any concern, she grabs a plate and begins piling it up with everything within arm's reach. She's so absorbed in planning in what order she's going to eat her meal in that she doesn't feel the shadow inching over her.

"Find something you like, sweetheart?"

Swallowing down a bite of bacon, Birdy turns and finds a man standing behind her, an amused grin on his scruffy face.

"How did a little thing like you get all the way down here?" Another man asks, the same deep voice she'd heard earlier.

Taking another bite of bacon, Birdy shrugs.

The first man chuckles and starts to offer her his drink, but gets cut off by a pair of Peacekeepers rushing in and grabbing Birdy, knocking her food from her hands.

"So sorry about this," the younger one stammers. "We don't know how she got in."

The older one, a bit winded, glares at her. "What were you planning, kid?"

Glancing down at her plate, Birdy points to the broken glass and pile of food. "To eat."

"Real funny," he grumbles. "Come on, we gotta take you to the lock up. This group of Tributes has had a run of that place."

"Why?" Birdy asks. "There's no rule against me being down here. I was only told I couldn't leave the Training Center."

And she hasn't.

The younger man, the name sewn into his uniform says 'Eamon', frowns and looks to the older man.

"Well...that's not how it is," the other Peacekeeper tells her. "You aren't to leave your floor."

"I didn't read that in the handbook," Birdy lies, hoping there is indeed a handbook and that neither of the Peacekeepers has read it.

The older man pales a little and seems to be searching his memory for something, and Birdy thinks she might just get away with her lie. Then he shakes his head.

"I'll have to look it up." He grabs her arm. "Until then, you come with us."

Before they can drag her off, a woman, narrow with sharp features, stops them.

"You're Mary's Tribute," she says evenly, eyeing Birdy from the top of her greasy head to the bottom of her bare feet. "You came down the staff elevator, didn't you?"

Feeling fairly certain she's in as much trouble as she can get in, Birdy gives her a little nod. The woman has an air of authority. Lying to her seems pointless and possibly dangerous.

The woman's eyes narrow a little, seemingly looking right through Birdy and divining the truth from her very soul, before she turns her sharp gaze on the Peacekeepers.

"There's no rule against it," she tells them coolly. "There should be though. I'll take the girl back."

She pulls Birdy's arm from the Peacekeeper's grip, her chilly expression never changing as she gives her a tug toward the doors leading out.

"Sebastian, your lack of surveillance on the staff elevator is a bit appalling. I'd advise you to step up," she tells the older Peacekeeper without so much as glancing back at him as she walks away, Birdy in tow.

The two drunk men are chuckling as the door snaps closed behind Birdy and the woman, shouting something about 'having a heart after all' at them before getting cut off.

For a few minutes they walk in silence through the icy halls, winding and twisting, until they reach what must be the main entry to the Training Center.

Birdy wonders if any other Tribute has ever gotten to see this part of the center as she spots enormous glass windows opening up to the city around them. A ground level view of what she's watched from her room the last few nights.

People are only a few yards away, drinking and eating, dancing in their shiny clothing, oblivious to Birdy and the woman walking on the other side of the glass.

Giving Birdy a jerk, the woman guides her to another elevator, exactly like the one Birdy and Gus had ridden up and down to their training the past few days.

Once the doors slide shut, the woman sighs and turns her eyes on the girl beside her.

"That was a very big lie you just told," she says simply.

Uncertain if she's being complimented or scolded, Birdy stays silent.

"A very big lie that you told very well," the woman adds. "You're lucky most people in the Capitol only read the nutrition label."

Nodding, Birdy continues to stare, wondering just what the woman means when the doors ding open.

"Come along," she says, giving Birdy a nudge out the door.

The lights are all off as they walk toward the room with the television.

It's blaring loudly, showing former Victors, among them Miss Lons, all partying under glittering confetti and laughing. Some kind of celebration about the Games soon beginning.

Mr. Brandsetter is asleep, snoring loudly on the couch when they walk in. Miss Mary is perched on the edge of one of the overstuffed leather chairs, her makeup washed away and her wide blue eyes focused on her friend on the television.

"Mary," the woman announces herself, reaching out and tapping a lamp on the table beside the couch and flooding the room with light. "Thomas. I believe I found something that belongs to you."

Mr. Brandsetter shudders awake, blinking blearily into the light while Miss Mary jumps to her feet, up turning a bowl of fruit she'd had sitting in her lap, sending apple slices to the floor.

"Phoebe!" She stares at her, startled for a minute before finding her voice again. "Where've you been?"

"Downstairs," the woman begins to explain, her expression almost bored. "It seems your Tribute went on a little night time adventure."

Miss Mary closes her eyes, apparently too horrified to look at her, then sighs.

"Thank you, Wiress. I'll have a talk with her."

Mr. Brandsetter stands up, finally blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes, nods his agreement. "Yeah, we'll talk to her."

The woman, Wiress, gives them a long look, the same searching gaze she'd given Birdy downstairs, before cutting her eyes back down to Birdy.

"You should probably stay to your floor from now on."

"I've only got a few days left. Shouldn't be a big problem."

Wiress' eyebrows rise a fraction, almost disapprovingly, but her lips twitch right before she walks off, her heels clicking sharply as she goes.

For a minute Birdy watches her go, long dark skirt whipping out of sight, before turning back to Miss Mary and Mr. Brandsetter.

She gives them a weak smile and shrugs. "Sorry."

#######

The lecture lasts over an hour, and Birdy nods off a couple of times during it.

"I'm serious, Birdy," Miss Mary tells her, twisting her delicate fingers painfully in her hands and biting her pale lips. "You could've gotten in a lot of trouble. You could've gotten other people in a lot of trouble."

Crossing her arms, Birdy huffs.

Why should she care what happens to other people when her life is at it's end? They'd already used her loyalty against her during the chariot parade, she won't let them use it again. Death should set her free, not make the last of her days harder.

"I was hungry."

"Shoulda ate more at dinner," Mr. Brandsetter tells her with a yawn. He turns to Miss Mary and rubs his eyes. "Let's drop it, Mary. She's not going to listen anyways."

Despite looking like she'd like at least a few more minutes to try to pound the severity of the situation into Birdy's head, Miss Mary finally sighs, nods and rubs her hands over her face in defeat.

"Go to bed, and stay there this time."

#######

Morning comes quickly, and Birdy is woken by a once more perfectly made up Miss Mary.

"You need to eat plenty this morning," she tells her, probably biting her tongue as she does. "Get dressed."

Grumbling to herself, Birdy goes to the bathroom and pulls on her outfit, combs her hair and brushes her teeth before padding out and finding Miss Mary sitting on her bed.

"I talked to Wiress this morning," she says, fixing Birdy in a steady look. "She told me about last night."

Yawning, Birdy drops to the ground and digs under the bedside table for her shoes. "Okay."

When she finds them she sits back and pulls them on before looking back to Miss Mary.

"Is there something else?"

For a second Miss Mary just stares at her, ruby lips puckered in thought and her well manicured eyebrows knitted together, before she sighs.

"No, I guess not." She forces a smile. "Do your best today, okay?"

Nodding, Birdy grunts an 'alright'.

Her best and her worst are one in the same anyways.

#######

Birdy falls asleep sitting in the cool, dim room waiting to be called for her private session. Gus spends most of the wait pacing back and forth, muttering and cursing under his breath as he does.

It's late when he's finally called.

"Good luck," Birdy whispers, giving him what she hopes is an encouraging smile before he vanishes through the doors.

He nods mutely in acknowledgement and tries to mutter something in return, but only manages to make a glurging noise.

Birdy simply sighs. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

As she waits by herself she hears one of the Peacekeepers whispering to another

"Well, I heard those kids from Two are siblings and their parents are too," the plump little man tells the girl with dull brown hair.

"Do you know how much money we could make if we told some of the odds makers," she whispers back.

Before they decide if they're going to use their valuable inside information, the old Peacekeeper from the night before, Sebastian, opens the door and calls her in.

Swallowing down bile rising in her throat, Birdy pushes herself up and numbly walks through the door.

As she steps into the room, onto the pads on the ground, muffling her steps, she feels her insides roll and she suddenly wishes she'd eaten more for breakfast as Miss Mary had pressed her to do.

Looking up, she sees the Gamemakers raised up above the padded floors, stuffing their faces as Birdy makes her way to the middle of the room.

They don't even seem aware she's there, all too consumed with the piles of delectables to even notice there's another person has entered the chamber.

Picking up a rope, Birdy considers making a lariat, or maybe something a little more sinister, before she catches a whiff of their food.

It's greasy, flavorful, so much better than what they'd sent up to the floor for her and Gus, and Birdy instantly knows what she's going to do.

Damn the consequence. What does she care anymore?

Silently she pads across the mats and begins crawling up the side of the wall, up and over, until she flops over the barrier and onto the food strewn floor, looking at the Gamemakers breathlessly.

"Excuse me," she tells one of them, stepping past them and pointing to a plate. "May I have some?"

They looked completely baffled, though whether due to her crawling into their precious area or by her asking for food she isn't sure.

Either way one of the pudgy men, with silver hair and diamond dust glittering over his skin, startles then picks up the plate and hands it to her.

She grins, takes the plate, thanks him, then drops into one of the chairs scattered around the stage.

Munching on a particularly crunchy piece of bacon, Birdy looks at them as they watch her, still looking somewhat baffled.

"Miss-ah-Ameda-"

"Alameda," she corrects him. They're sending her to her death, they should at least get her name right.

"Right," he mutters. "Might you tell us what you're doing up here?"

She holds up her plate. "Eating." Obviously.

"We see that," a woman with a shrill voice says, holding a monocle to her eye. "Why?"

"I'm hungry."

"Oh."

They stay silent for a few seconds, stymied by her bluntness, before a man with a rather pre belly and a ruddy face smiles at her.

"My dear, I don't believe you are allowed up here."

"It doesn't say that in the rule book."

His smile freezes as uncertainty begins filling his eyes and he cuts one of his fellow Gamemakers a small, anxious look.

The other man pales.

"Oh," the ruddy faced man grunts. "So it doesn't."

Giving him a bright smile, Birdy takes a bite of some exotic fruit.

She really ought to read this handbook she keeps talking about. If there is in fact one in existence.

Picking up one of their goblets, Birdy slurps a bit of the bitter drink from it before making a face and setting it back.

"Look," she begins, deciding to use their full attention to at least make Miss Mary happy once before the end, the poor woman clearly needs a bright spot in her day, "you and I both know I haven't got a snowball's chance of winning this thing. We're all bored and hungry and have better things to do. In my case, there's a lot of food I'd like to eat before one of those Neanderthals from One, Two, or Four decide to bleed me like a stuffed pig on national television. And you all probably need to do something equally as important." She brandished one of the bacon strips at the men. "So here's the deal: why don't you just give me a six or a seven and be done with it? I'm not in the mood to try and wow you with a mediocre skill and you all don't look to be in the mood to watch a mediocre skill."

Her mouth goes dry as she watches them, waits, uncertain of what she's just done.

"If you don't plan on showing us what you can do then why shouldn't we give you a one?" A bald man with stripes tattooed across his body asks, looking genuinely curious.

Birdy gave him a tight smile, her mind searching for an answer.

"Excellent question. If you gave me a one how interesting a Game would that be? You and I know that anything below a five just makes things boring, that's why those scores are hardly ever handed out. A six or a seven? Those are believable, even for me, and they make things interesting." She shrugs, finishing off her bacon. "It's your call though. One way or another, I'll find out tonight."

The group murmurs, nodding and whispering to each other as Birdy stuffs a few rolls in her pockets and climbs back over the barrier and landing with a dull thud on the mats.

"Thanks for the bread," she yells over her shoulder as she walks out, not bothering to look back.

Either they give her a middling score or not. It doesn't matter. Her fate is sealed either way. At least she'd gotten a few rolls out of the deal.

#######

Coraline Lons reappears just as Birdy is about to wander onto the elevator.

Her hair is faded and her eyes looked dulled, darkness hung under them poorly concealed by the Capitol makeup.

"Finished with your private session?" She asks, smiling weakly.

"Yeah," Birdy shrugs as she studies Coraline some more.

She's was wearing dark tights and a short coat, are bruises around her wrists, just barely visible under the cuffs of her sleeves.

Birdy arches her eyebrows. "Rough night?"

Coraline Lons' color drains and her face hardens. "It'll be fine."

Squinting at her, Birdy's mouth starts before her brain again."Coraline Lons? Where have you been?"

She knows exactly where Miss Lons had been, but for some reason she needs to hear it. Confirm her worst fears about the Victors' lives. Seal it in her mind as a firm and final reason not to want to win.

"Nowhere," she answers, too quickly.

"Your wrists-"

"Rope burns…I was messing around in the training area after you k-Tributes had left," she forces a smile.

Those aren't rope burns. Birdy knows rope burns, they're common enough in Ten and she's had plenty herself to know what they look like.

She doesn't press the issue though. She won't make her talk if she doesn't want to.

"If you say so."

They stand silently waiting for the elevator and board it without a word.

The doors are nearly shut when a pair of grubby hands catch it at the last minute. A bleary eyed man appears, prying it open and grunting before stumbling in.

He focuses blearily on Miss Lons with a lopsided grin. "Well, how are we tonight Cora?"

"Fine, Haymitch. Nice to see you too."

He snorts and begins muttering something under his breath before noticing the younger occupant. Leaning in, he grins again.

"Well if it isn't our little escape artist. Finished for the day already?"

He reeks of booze and Birdy grimaces and has to back up before it overwhelms her.

"Done and done, sir."

He grunts. "Little Miss Manners, aren't you? You bunch from Ten are an odd mess."

Birdy grins. "No need for obvious rudeness."

Less than obvious rudeness however, is perfectly acceptable.

"Even when you're going to die, kid?"

Her stomach lurches as Miss Lons places a hand on her shoulder. "That's enough, Haymitch."

The old drunk glares but doesn't argue.

Birdy watches him lean against the wall of the elevator and rub his hands over his face as the elevator rises, then when the little bell dings and the doors opens to Ten's floor she turns back to him.

"It doesn't hurt anyone to be polite. Even if you don't mean it." Her mouth twists up into a grin. "Have a good day, Mr. Haymitch."

His fuzzy eyes try to focus on her as he chuckles darkly. "Yeah, sure."

#######

Scores are announced that evening.

The careers get predictably high scores, none below a nine. Laisa manages a six and Dash a five. No one else warrants much attention though.

When Gus' face flashes up on the screen Birdy senses him stiffen beside her and his eyes fix on the television. A bold nine comes up.

"Well done! Well done indeed!" Lineus claps his hands and beams over at Gus.

"You really must've showed them something," Mr. Brandsetter pats his knee and Miss Lons simply smiles tiredly at him.

"And here comes Birdy," Miss Mary says, her eyes having not left the screen.

Birdy looks to the television.

It's an awful picture, her last one from school. It had rained the day before and the air had been thick, weighing down her already flat hair and giving her a greasy, unkempt look. She grimaces at it and is so focused on tragedy that was the peach dress she'd been forced into that day that she completely misses the score.

Gus pushes her in the shoulder and laughs, bringing her back to reality.

"A seven, Bird! That's really good!" He musses her hair.

Miss Mary gives her a brilliant smile, her white teeth almost blindingly.

"Good job, really good," she tells her, relief plainly washing over her porcelain face.

It's almost enough to make Birdy feel bad for getting a score that high.

She should've aimed lower, maybe a five.

Seven looks to have given her Mentor too high of expectations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply. Also, thanks to those reading this story. It's hard to read about OC's and I'm glad anyone is even looking at this.

"You'll do wonderfully! Such a natural with eye contact and lovely clear speech!" Lineus shrieks, beside himself as he passes along less than helpful tips for the interview.

Miss Mary, misinterpreting Birdy's middling score as an indication she wants to put up some kind of fight, makes her walk in heels, practice smiling sweetly and giggling, all while giving her unwanted pointers.

"Make them think you're sweet," she advises. "You've got a childlike aura about you."

"I am a child," Birdy reminds her, nearly twisting her ankle in the awful heels. "Do I have to practice this? I mean, I'm never gonna wear these things."

"On stage you will," Miss Mary tells her without so much as a smirk. "You need the height."

Grumbling the entire time, Birdy practices until Ursula arrives and drags her to her room to dress her.

Miss Mary stays in the room, overseeing the entire painful process, which involves curling Birdy's hair into tight spirals and dusting sparkling dust over her whole body.

"It burns," Birdy complains.

"It brings out your eyes!" Ursula chirps.

Unless she's sprayed it in Birdy's eyes as well, that statement is nothing but mad chatter.

The dress, which Birdy fears is going to be gingham again, actually turns out to be pale blue.

It's sleeves are puffy and there's some itchy material under the skirt to give it 'volume', but other than that, it isn't wholly bad.

It's not 'just the most beautiful, wonderful thing ever!' as Ursula and the prep team deem it, but it is far less horrendous than the opening ceremonies outfit. At the very least there's no bonnet.

Once the finishing touches are in place, which includes globing a thick goop on Birdy's lips to 'catch the camera's eye', Miss Mary takes her down to await the interview.

"They've changed it again," Miss Mary murmurs as they step into the room.

It's starkly white with metal benches, cold white lights burning dimly in the ceiling. Several of the other Tributes are already there, including Laisa and Dash.

Taking Birdy by the shoulders, Miss Mary forces a smile. It looks more like a grimace.

"Promise me you'll do your very best out there. No being smart-mouthed. Got it?"

Birdy nods mutely, unsure why it's so important she do well and wondering if Miss Mary is this maddeningly pushy with all her Tributes.

Her silent agreement isn't enough for Miss Mary. She gives Birdy a slight shake. "Say it. Promise."

It startles Birdy into speech. "Yeah, yeah, I promise."

Miss Mary grimaces again, then tugs one of Birdy's too tight curls. "Remember to smile."

Birdy gives her the biggest, cheesiest smile she can muster before a Peacekeeper comes and escorts Miss Mary away, leaving Birdy to wander over to where her allies are restlessly practicing.

Laisa is sitting, smoothing her tangerine colored dress on her legs anxiously, while Dash is pacing, muttering to himself. He's so distracted he nearly trips over Birdy.

"Nervous much?" she asks, trying to stay on her feet in her heels.

Dash grunts something that sounds like 'affirmative' before turning on his heels and pacing some more.

Laisa chews her lips and shrugs. "A bit. You?"

"What's the worst that can happen? I mean, look where we are."

About to pretend to care what the Capitol thinks of them in some misguided attempt to survive at their mercy. Not exactly a great position. Nerves won't change a thing.

Laisa grimaces as she looks around the room, now filling with the other Tributes, then nods in resignation.

Birdy almost feels bad for possibly zapping what little hope the other girl might have, but pushes the feeling aside. There's no place for false hope for people in their position.

Dash slumps down on the bench, looking paler with each passing minute and Birdy is considering asking him if he should put his head between his knees or something, when an elbow makes soft contact with her shoulder.

Looking over, she finds Gus leaning lazily against the wall beside her.

He certainly fared better than her this round.

His shirt is simple, light blue to match Birdy's dress, and plain black pants, boots, and a Stetson.

"Not bad," Birdy tells him, eyeing his outfit critically. "Apparently you can shine a turd."

"I was gonna say the same thing myself," he chuckles before grinning at Laisa and winking. "Lookin' good."

In place of a reply Laisa blushes furiously and mumbles something unintelligible.

Either ignoring her very blatant crush or being too obtuse to notice, Gus looks back to Birdy.

"What were your marching orders?"

"Be sweet. Don't be a smart-ass. You?"

"Be charming."

Birdy nods thoughtfully. "So we'll both be playin' against type. Fabulous."

Laisa chuckles a little at that and Dash makes a noise that Birdy would almost call a laugh, before they glance around and motion for the other two to do the same.

"What's the plan? For tomorrow," Dash asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

Birdy almost jokes that there's not much need for a plan, they'll all probably be dead by the time the gong stops ringing, but gets cut off by Gus.

"Tomorrow, we stick together. We get away from the Cornucopia and stay together."

When Dash looks like he might have something to say about that, Gus shakes his head.

He looks so adult, commanding and certain, that no one argues with him. He's the man with the plan, and there's no room for discussion. Not on this.

Slumping back onto his seat, Dash nods and keeps his opinion to himself.

Laisa begins fussing with her dress again, trying to pull the neckline up to no avail, and her anxiety begins drifting to Birdy.

"I see One is going with the transparent clothing choice again," she says, looking around, trying to ward off Laisa's infectious fidgeting. "Once again leaving nothing to the imagination, not that anyone from One has any imagination to begin with."

Squinting around, she sees the pair from Four

"A seashell bra? Never seen that before." She waves lazily at the male. "Though not to be outdone, that conch shell cod piece is sure to be a fan favorite. It's so rare that a male Tribute gets to start a fashion trend. Though, as someone who has participated in many a castration, that shell is undoubtedly oversized."

Gus snorts while Dash looks up, squinting at the male Tribute.

"How big are they normally?" Laisa asks, her features pinched up as she looks away from the boy from Four.

Before Birdy can answer, they call them to attention.

"Line up!" An unnaturally tall, too thin woman with a raspy voice commands them, shoving them with her spindly hands into a line.

They watch the other interviews slowly tick by, each as boring as the last to Birdy.

Laisa and Dash do well enough, though they hardly well enough to draw sponsors. At least they can string two words together to form a sentence, something the Twos seem entirely incapable of.

"They may as well just've grunted the whole time," she whispers to Gus.

The boy from Four, whose name is Ray Benthos, doesn't actually seem like a complete jackass as he speaks about his brother and sisters back home, and Birdy feels a twinge of remorse that he'll likely be killed by the bloodthirsty swine from One and Two. It's only a small twinge though. It might've just been hunger pains.

By the time the name 'Phoebe Alameda' is called, Birdy has zoned out, having to be roused from her stupor by Gus. She glances back at him, as the skeletal woman guides her out, giving him one last icy smile before she's thrust into the bright light of the stage.

Caesar Flickerman smiles broadly with his blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth and beckons Birdy with his immaculately manicured hand to the center of the stage.

He's a strange kind of comfort. In all the newness of the Capitol, Caesar is familiar, he's friendly-seemingly genuinely so-and he's going to help her.

Whatever helping her might mean, she isn't sure herself.

"Ah! Our little Phoebe. The baby of our Tributes." He wags a finger at her. "You almost missed your name at your Reaping young lady."

Caesar pats her hand as she jumps up and scoots into the too large chair across from him, her face already hurting from smiling.

"But you made it tonight!" He turns to the crowd which roars its approval.

Birdy just barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes. What was so grand about that?

She forces a beaming smile onto her face and pitches her voice up, twice as childlike. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

They eat it up, cheering at her clear delight at being in their presence.

"Well now, Phoebe, you're the youngest competitor this year. How do you feel about that?"

She gives him a mischievous smile; she can almost feel her eyes sparkling in the boiling overhead lights and has to fight to keep them from watering up and ruining her makeup.

"Well, Mr. Flickerman, I'm sure my opponents can function quite well despite their obvious disadvantage."

Caesar looked puzzled for a moment. "Disadvantage?"

Birdy smiles pleasantly. "Their advanced age. I assume that's what you were talking about. I mean, my youthfulness is clearly my strong point."

She'd read the quip, or some version of it, years before and somehow it just seemed like the right thing to say. Judging from the laughter it gets her, she isn't wrong.

Caesar throws back his head and lets out a booming laugh. His canary yellow hair shakes and Birdy wonders if yellow is simply in vogue this year.

"You are a clever little creature aren't you?" He pats her head and she tries not to cringe. "Tell me Phoebe, what do you look forward to doing if you win?"

She tilts her head thoughtfully.

His question throws her a bit. She doesn't plan on winning so she hasn't really put any thought into the future past the next meal.

"I think I'd like the Tour. Get to see all the other Districts." She feels her heart speed up, remembering her life on the move when her dad had been alive and they'd constantly been traveling the plains. "There's so much out there I'd like to see, like the ocean and the big forests."

It's the first honest thing she's said since being in the Capitol, she's fairly certain of it.

"I think that's a wonderful aspiration," Caesar tells her, smiling genuinely at her. "And let's all hope you get to live it out."

#######

Gus' interview goes well, at least as far as Birdy can tell.

He's charming and cheerful, smiles at all the right intervals, and makes the crowd laugh. All in all, the two of them do fairly well.

Lineus titters and trills about how wonderfully they'd done and how they're bound to be raking in the Sponsors by the next morning.

Miss Mary and Mr. Brandsetter tell them both they couldn't have done any better before sending them off to bed.

"You need…you need to sleep." Mary Jacson tells them as she give them both a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

It's too much affection, and Birdy grimaces as she walks away, trying to wipe the lipstick from her cheek.

When they reach their doors Gus turned to her, Miss Mary's red lipstick still marking his cheek.

"Birdy…are you scared?"

She is. It's hard not to be. She refuses to let that bit of information out though. Admitting she's afraid won't change a thing, and she'd like to go out with him believing that she isn't a scared little kid.

Even if it's a lie.

She shakes her head. "Nope." She gave him a half-hearted shrug. "No one really knows what tomorrow brings. We die in the arena or we die in the District. You can't outrun it."

Then end sum is the same, even if the way they get to it is different.

Hester is dead. Matt is dead. Cliff, their mom, their dad, all dead. They hadn't been Reaped and the still died young.

None of it makes a difference.

Gus frowns and nods. "Yeah, I guess. Still we should have probably made a better plan."

All his certainty from hours before has evaporated from his eyes, and Birdy can't stop herself from trying to comfort him. Even if it'll all be cold by the morning.

"We stick together. We get away from the bloodbath and we stick together." She hardens her expression. "The Careers'll tear each other up for us then all we'll have to worry about it surviving whatever the Gamemakers throw at us. We just have to stay alive."

At least until they die, but she leaves that out.

Gus sighs and runs a hand through his hair, setting his curls free, falling in his eyes.

"Yeah." He smiles sadly. "See you in the morning, Bird."

"In the morning," she nods. "'Night."

#######

Birdy sleeps surprisingly well.

She supposes it's the sleep of the doomed. Like all the other nights since the Reaping it's blissfully dreamless.

When she wakes it's to what appears to be a very large canary perched in her bedside table.

"Ahhh!" Birdy skitters back, her head banging on the glass behind her. "Oh, it's you."

Ursula frowns then brightens. "Of course it is!"

Nothing it seems, not even the impending death of the girl she'd dressed for the past few days, can dampen the stylist's mood.

"Be smart. Be safe," Miss Mary whispers to them, giving them each one last hug.

Birdy smiles for her and stays quiet. There's nothing left to say.

Miss Mary only frowns at her silence as she watches the two Tributes being shuffled away.

Then they're gone. Probably never to be seen again.

They're placed on a windowless transport. Gus is seated between Ray from Four and that monstrosity Titus, while Birdy finds herself wedged between the wall and Breaker from Five.

"Arm," a stout man grumbles at her pointing to her left arm.

"Yes, that is an arm. Very good. You clearly have taken some kind of advanced anatomy class."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Just put it out your arm, kid. I need to put in your tracker."

Birdy jumps a little as the tracking device is shot into her arm.

Just like cattle, she thinks duly, rubbing her stinging she's always suspected how the Gamemakers keep such close tabs on the Tributes, she's had never really known. It's a bit of confirmation she could have happily lived without.

They unload a little over an hour later.

The Tributes are ushered into their launch rooms to change and have one last meal.

As Birdy looks around she labels it for what it is. A holding pen before the slaughter.

Ursula chatters on as Birdy changes into her arena outfit, a pants, boots, and a tank top, all in the same endless shade of black.

Ursula helps her pull her hair back into a pony tail, all the while chattering, and Birdy wishes dearly that she would stop when suddenly she does. Abruptly she's pulled her tiny Tribute into a crushing hug, begun blubbering loudly.

"Oh it's been so lovely meeting you!" Her eyes water. "You Tributes from Ten don't seem to make it too far but you always have the loveliest manners."

It's an odd sort of compliment and Birdy almost feels bad for her.

Almost.

When they finally separate Birdy frowns.

"Ursula? Do they let the Stylist clean up the Tribute, you know…after?"

For the first time since their meeting, Ursula looks subdued. She smiles sadly.

"Yes. We prepare the…them before they're returned to the District."

Birdy nods, takes a breath, forcing down tears threatening to pour out.

"Can I ask you a favor? When you send me back, dress me in green. Dark green. And nothin' fancy please. I just want to go home and have them recognize me."

She wants to just be herself one last time.

Ursula looks almost thoughtful, tears shimmering in her falsely colored eyes. "Of course."

A man's voice comes overhead, telling the Tributes to get in their chutes only seconds later.

The glass comes down around her, once she's standing at the center of the room, cutting Ursula off.

Birdy can see mascara tear tracks down Ursula's yellow cheeks and finds herself thinking that despite being obnoxious and self-absorbed, her stylist isn't so bad. It's a hard feeling to hold onto when she remembers Ursula is probably only upset about losing her latest mannequin and will have to wait a whole year to have such fun again.

The top slides open and muted light pours in as the floor raises her up.

Birdy reaches out, bangs on the glass, and Ursula looks up, still crying.

In the last few moments before she's pushed out of sight Birdy mouths the word 'thanks' despite herself.

Then the light blinds her as she reaches the topside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply.

The first thing Birdy notices about the Arena is the air.

It's thick and wet, not unlike the summers back in Ten, but there's something distinctly different about it. She can taste the artificiality of it, almost feel the sticky hot air being pumped in on top of them.

They're in a jungle, or at least that's what it appears to be. Birdy isn't sure, she's only ever read about them and seen a few faded pictures in the pitiful remains of the library at the school and in her mother's books before they were taken away, after her father died.

Exotic blooms of bright pinks, yellows, and oranges litter her periphery, glowing like the lights on the Capitol buildings Birdy had seen outside her window in the Training Center the past few nights. Vines, with mixes of poisonous and non-poisonous leaves on them, twist upward into dark, dense foliage. Trees with broad, flat leaves that look large enough to wrap up in, shade the dirt ground of the jungle floor, creating a damp, cool looking place filled with wild undergrowth.

Looking up, she sees a yellow sun overhead, but despite glowing, it doesn't seem to give off any real lite. It's almost nothing more than a child's drawing, bright and yellow against the deep blue-black of the sky, but provides no true light, only the vague impression of it.

At the center of the circle of wide eyed Tributes, sits the Cornucopia.

It's enormous, carved from porous black rock and covered in electric glowing moss and a thick purple slime, it seems to hum, beckoning the Tributes to its shadowed belly and to their death.

The countdown drones on around Birdy as she looks frantically around for her allies.

They'd made a plan, and even if she knows it's futile, she won't abandon them.

Dash is out of sight, behind the Cornucopia somewhere.

Gus is across from her and just barely visible, poised on the balls of his feet, he gives her a little nod and points to Birdy's right.

Looking to where he's pointed, Birdy finds Laisa, only separated from her by the girl from Six.

Laisa looks green, and Birdy half worries she's going to fall off the circular disk and explode. It's happened enough times before.

Instead of falling, Laisa's terrified eyes quickly flicker from the Cornucopia to Birdy, who mouths 'don't fall' and giving her a thumbs up.

It doesn't seem to comfort the older girl.

Then the countdown ends.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 67th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

Then the world explodes around them.

Jumping, Birdy lands with a thud next to the girl from Six and quickly skittles away, toward the safety of the jungle at her back.

"Laisa! Move!" She yells when she sees the older girl standing frozen on her platform still, her voice barely carrying over the din of the bloodbath.

Somehow, Laisa hears her and starts to run, stumbling over her feet as she does and nearly getting a knife in the back.

Running toward her, Birdy grabs her by the wrist and drags her toward the jungle.

"Pick up your feet!"

Behind them, those foolish enough to brave the Cornucopia are being slaughtered. The smell of blood and death is something those from Ten are all too familiar with, and Birdy is suddenly grateful for the hovercrafts that will soon be removing the dead before they begin to really smell.

Someone barrels into her, making her lose Laisa's wrist and fall flat on her face.

The skinny girl from Five is stumbling and crawling away from them, a little dagger lodged in her side. There's no time to be stunned as Birdy jumps back up and grabs Laisa again before darting past the girl and yanking the dagger out of her side.

She'll die quicker that way. Maybe even quickly enough not to be a toy for the Careers.

High, pained, bloodcurdling screams echo around them, but Birdy doesn't look back, doesn't stop.

They dive into a glowing plant, past blurs of bugs and spiders, creatures neither one have time to identify at the moment. They crash over massive piles of moss that glow as ominously and crushing the limbs of bushes and spindly looking flowers, turning some of them to dust that they only narrowly manage to keep from getting in their eyes.

When they finally stop running, Laisa is gasping for breath, coughing and causing a commotion that Birdy knows will be their death if she can't quiet her. Pounding on the older girl's back, she shushes her before yanking her toward one of enormous trees.

"Up. We need to get up. We need to get to the higher ground quick."

Laisa nods mutely, tripping over her own feet when she tries to ascend the tree, slipping down into the dark, mossy, muddy ground below.

"I can't," she gasps. "I can't do it remember? I couldn't do it during training either."

"I don't care," Birdy hisses. "You'll do it now or we're both dead."

Laisa shakes her head and begins to protest again when a high squeal cuts into their conversation.

"Wh-what was that?" Laisa's face loses what little color it has, eyes doubling as she frantically looks around. "Do you think they're torturing someone?"

"That…wasn't human," Birdy tells her, voice so soft she isn't sure even the Capitol's cameras will be able to pick it up.

It's a mutt, it's the only answer, and Birdy doesn't want to meet whatever monstrosity they've made for their jungle horror show.

She's about to force Laisa back up the tree when they hear another noise. Human voices and feet stampeding through the undergrowth toward them.

They both dive into a shiny bush and Birdy silently pulls the still bloody dagger from her belt, ready to at least put up a decent fight before the end.

Both girls squat low and wait for the owners of the voices to appear when the high squeal pierces the air again, this time accompanied by very human screams.

It happens to suddenly Birdy nearly misses it.

A skinny dark haired boy and a strawberry blonde with curly hair, both screaming as they sprint from whatever is chasing them deep into the jungle.

Which turns out to be a pig.

Well, not a pig. A boar. No, a mutt.

It stinks of musk and its own filth, covered in what Birdy assumes is mud and feces.

It's several times larger than any wild boar she's ever seen and its eyes have the unmistakable, almost sentient look so common to mutts. It charges after the boys, apparently planning to spear them with its unnaturally long tusks.

Birdy groans, stands and shouts from her cover. "Go toward the tree, you idiots!"

Gus skids and pulls Dash back to the left, toward Birdy and Laisa.

The mutt is too big to change direction as quickly as them, and they're halfway to the girls when it's finally started charging at them again.

"Each of you go to a side!" Birdy yells, waving toward the broad base of one of the trees.

Just as the mutt has almost caught up to them, the boys dive in opposite direction around the tree.

The mutt's momentum carries it, even as it digs its enormous hooves into the mushy ground, straight into the tree. It's long, prehistoric looking tusks plow deep into the thick trunk, trapping it firmly.

While it thrashes and squeals frantically, trying to free itself, Birdy and Laisa crawl out from the bush and rush over to the boys.

Gus flashes a grateful, if exhausted, grin at them while Dash wheezes and tries to catch his breath.

After several minutes the mutt tires out, collapsing with its tusks still firmly stuck in the tree trunk, still squealing sadly as it weakly continues to try to free itself.

"Let's get out of here," Dash finally says, her voice high and thin from running.

Birdy frowns and looks at the mutt, still hopelessly trapped in the tree. It's nasty yellow eyes rolling in its head as it continues to squealing pitifully as it struggles.

"We can't just leave it," she mutters as she begins walking toward it, dagger still in her hand.

"Yes we can. It tried to kill us, in case you missed that," Dash grumbles to her irritably, wiping sweat from his forehead and smearing mud across his face.

Gus, however, nods. He knows animals, and just like her he doesn't want to know he's left one to suffer.

Birdy gives the knife a spin in her palm and sighs.

It isn't its fault it exists, that it is what it is. Still…

"Reeeeeet!"

The mutt's final squeal signals its death as it slumps to the ground, blood quickly pouring from its neck. A clean, quick kill. No suffering.

"Let's move," Gus says, his voice firm and certain again. "That thing might have a friend."

Nodding, Birdy follows him, giving the mutt one last look, and wondering if mutts are edible, before they leave it behind.

#######

They decide to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible.

"Because that's where the psychos'll be settin' up camp," Angus reminds them.

Careers are nothing if not predictable.

As they trudge through the jungle, the deeper they get in, the more awful their surroundings become.

Below the thick leaves of the unknown trees it's dim and damp. Only the scarcest amount of light seems to filter down to the jungle floor from the false sun.

Most of the light comes from eerily glowing flora and fauna.

Everything glows from within itself, unnatural and unsettling.

Worse than the sights are the sounds,

Clutches of snakes, which seem to only be skeletons, periodically come out of nowhere, and thought they don't seem truly dangerous, their hissing is painfully loud. It bores into their heads and dulls their senses. Bugs make a constant droning, buzzing and clicking and zipping. It's the loudest arena any of them remember.

"How can they hear anything? I can't even think with the racket!" Gus complains, half shouting, his fingers in his ears.

"That may be the idea!" Laisa yells back.

"You'd do better to let us talk! Surely no one likes the obnoxious background noise!" Birdy finally shouts at the canopy, at the Gamemakers.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Dash bellows before realizing he's twice as loud as any of the others.

Birdy glares at him.

"Well it's true! I didn't even get to hear the damn cannons!"

Dash's mouth opens to say something, but music blasts out over the neverending din of bugs and monsters and keeps him quiet. The Anthem.

"Shit. It that time already?" Gus squints up at the leaves overhead. "Birdy? You think you can get up there? See who got out?"

Tugging at one of the vines, Birdy scales the broad trunk of the tree and soon settles down comfortably on a thick branch to stare up at the unnaturally dark sky, the lightless sun still hanging overhead.

The first face is the boy from 4, Ray, then the girl from 5 and her partner, Breaker. Six's girl, Seven's girl, Eight's boy, both Nines, Eleven's girl, and finally both Twelves.

When Birdy crawls back down and reports Gus ticks off the numbers on his hand.

"Well…that's eleven down!"

"Only thirteen to go!" Birdy makes a mockingly cheerful gesture.

Dash rolls his eyes. "Twelve! Twelve to go! You don't count yourself, idiot!"

Birdy arches an eyebrow at him. "Maybe you should."

#######

After the Anthem they decide it must be night.

They all climb up one of the shorter trees, settle in for the night, but no one can sleep.

The lightless sun is still glowing above them and the endless noise continues around them, nothing indicates a change in time, and that makes everyone restless. It's unnerving how unchanging their surroundings are, keeps all their eyes open despite the overwhelming exhausting settling on their bodies.

A blood curdling scream interrupts their useless attempts to sleep.

Heavy hooves pound in the distance toward them, over the landscape, followed by the unmistakable squealing of another mutt.

Birdy and Dash exchange a glance before edging a little further over their perch.

After a few moments a screaming boy crashes through some purple foliage followed seconds later by two smelly, angry boar-mutts.

They appear ready to carry on with their chase, snorting and thrashing toward the boy, when suddenly both let out frightened screeches, their giant hooves digging into the mushy ground as they stop and turned back, kicking dirt and plants up as they flee.

"What'd'ya think?" Birdy asks, scanning the area for whatever had scared the monsters so badly they'd given up their midnight snack.

Gus frowns. "I don't know, but I guarantee it isn't any good."

He isn't wrong.

The boy apparently senses the same thing. He stops dead in his tracks seconds after the mutts turn and disappear.

His eyes widen and he frantically searches for what could be so terrifying, swatting off a spider web as he spins around.

Birdy frowns, looks around, feeling her insides squirming.

The bugs and birds, all the deafening animal noises, have stopped.

Other than the boy's huffs and frightened noises, the jungle is dead silent.

Before she can point it out, Birdy spots a small dot of glowing green floating down and landing on the boy.

Then another, and another, and another...like radioactive snow.

He frowns at the flecks and tries to brush them off, only to have a dozen more come down and take their place. Bigger ones begin to rain down slowly on him and he starts to panic, swatting at them and jumping around.

Birdy squints at them, trying to make out their shapes as bigger ones began scurrying in from the bushes. Then she can see their horrible harry legs, burning green against the black jungle floor.

Spiders.

The boy screams and begins trying to smash them with his feet, a fallen branch, his hands….but there are too many.

Green glowing bodies force their way under his clothes, the tiny ones disappear into his ears, up his nose, cover his eyes. His screams become muffled as the larger ones force themselves down his throat. Then he collapses, writhing, still fighting until finally his body twitches and convulses.

Then the cannon fires.

"You have got to be kidding me," Birdy mutters, feeling her stomach lurch.

Beside her, Dash has his head between his knees. "I hate spiders."

A splitting noise cracks through the air and Birdy looks back to the boy's body only to find it bursting open and thousands of bloody spiders erupting from his chest and stomach.

Dash quickly turns his face and makes a heaving noise over the side of his branch.

Birdy shakes her head. "Twelve."

#######

The boy from Seven's glittering picture appears overhead shortly after his death, a new twist to the game apparently, abandoning the wait to show the deceased. One more way to unnerve them.

Laisa stares horrorstruck at the shell of the body until the hovercrafts come to collect what little is left, getting violently sick when his half consumed body breaks and his arm lands in a bush that turns out to be carnivorous. The arm is devoured in seconds, no leaving so much as a finger when it's finished.

They quickly decide they don't want to stay anywhere near flesh eating spiders or man eating plants if they can help it.

Carefully and as quietly as they can, they creep through the underbrush.

Hours pass, at least by Birdy's estimation. The unmoving sun gives them no indication of how much time had come and gone.

As they slowly move they begin to look for sources of food, though it becomes apparent that's a task beyond anything they'd ever anticipated.

First they find a bush laden with swollen, delicious looking fruit that Laisa thinks is one of the edibles.

Though skeptical, Dash plucks one, only to have it split open and an evil looking, fuzzy lizard the color of fresh dandelions and with solid red eyes, crying tears of blood, squirm out. It snaps and hisses at them before scurrying away back to its bush that promptly erupts in scarlet flames.

Birdy and Gus fashion a gig from fallen branches and, after several failed attempts, kill one of the larger snakes from the glowing, skeletal packs. As soon as they cut into it, though, it sizzles, the juices in its gut burning Gus's fingers and scorching everywhere it touches on the ground.

They kill one of the fuzzy lizards next only to have the same thing happen.

Dash captures a purple beetle, the least glowing thing in the jungle, only to have it snap into one of his fingers, causing it to swell up and puss pour out. Laisa smashes it quickly, but despite its normal appearance after that, none of them are keen to try and eat it after taking one look at Dash's deformed finger.

As Birdy roughly wipes the foul puss from his finger, Dash finally gives voice to what all of them are becoming increasingly aware of.

"There's no food out here." He begins wrapping his finger with a swatch of his own torn shirt. "They're going to starve us."

"Then they won't have a game," Gus speaks in a low tone, barely moving his lips.

They've become increasingly paranoid since the animals stopped making their overwhelming noise. No one wants to speak much louder than a whisper.

"Everything out here so far is going to kill us. We can't eat any of it," Laisa tugs at her stringy hair, a clump of it coming out in her hand.

"We won't starve." Birdy looks over to Gus. "A person can live without food for quite some time. We'll be weak, might go a bit crazy, but it won't be the thing to kill us."

Long years on cattle runs with her family had taught her that. They'd spent many long months at the edge of starvation, only the leanest roots and the occasional bit of saved jerky to keep them fed.

"Just make us easier to kill," Dash mutters darkly.

Birdy sighs. "Water on the other hand…we won't make it very long without water. Especially in this heat."

And so far they'd seen only mud.

"So we need to look for water," Laisa say, nodding carefully. She began digging in a pack one of the boys had grabbed before escaping the Cornucopia and pulls out some iodine.

They quietly picked their way through the glowing undergrowth, following the muddy pockets deeper and deeper into the jungle until they nearly slip into a swamp.

"Watch for 'gators," Gus cautions Birdy as she stoops to fill the small canteen that had been in the pack with the murky water. Laisa drops the proper amount of iodine in and Birdy feels her mouth go dry in anticipation.

It still tastes filthy, dirty, a bit stagnant, but to Birdy nothing had ever tasted better. She sits cross legged at the edge of the water, watching the thousands of lustrous and luminous water creatures dancing just below the surface. Then a cannon fires.

"Going to be a quick game this year," Dash says with a frown at the canteen, filling it up and dropping in the iodine.

Something clinks overhead and they all look up.

Dangling from one of the branches is a single silver parachute with a tiny package attached.

"We have a sponsor?" Laisa frowns as Birdy stands and goes the tree to retrieve the gift.

Scrambling up the vines, which is slick with muck, climbing and slipping, scraping her knees on the strange bark of the foreign trees Birdy finally makes it to the branch. After several painfully long minutes she scoots out and plucks the parachute up.

"Victory," she mutters to herself as she untangles the chute and stuffs the silken material in her back pocket.

Perching herself on the branch, she sets the package on her lap and pries it open.

Inside are three more canteens and another vial of iodine.

Staring at it for a minute, panic swells in her middle.

"Catch!" She shouts, tossing the canteens to Gus before scurrying down the tree, falling halfway down and having to bite down a scream of pain as she lands on her shoulder.

Laisa rushes to her, but Birdy waves her off.

"Go! Fill up the canteens! We need to get out of here!"

Because whoever sent them those canteens wanted them to take their water and get away from the swamp. She isn't sure if it's because more Tributes are sure to congregate there or because of some Capitol made monster lurking in the swamp water.

Either way, they need to go.

Her panic is infectious. The other three frantically begin filling the new canteens, sloshing water everywhere in their hurry.

Just as they're about to run, find high ground again, somewhere deeper in the swamp someone screams.

Birdy freezes on the spot.

"Come on," Dash hisses. "You were the one who said we need to go, well let's go."

She can't though, she knows the fear she hears in that scream.

Without looking back, she runs into the swamp, jumping over the marshy land and onto vibrant stumps protruding from the water, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of some serpentine creature as she leaps to a dangling vine.

She skids to a stop only feet from the source of the screaming.

The boys from Two and One have the girl from Four pinned to the ground.

Her clothes are torn and her face is streaked with filth and tears as she sobs and weakly tries to fight them off.

"Please," she sputters. "Please, j-just kill me."

"You're too pretty to just kill, Nym," Two snickers as he pulls her up by her tattered shirt and slams her into a tree. Her head makes an unpleasant crack but she keeps fighting, even as he starts cutting at her with his knife, making tiny nicks on her cheeks and pressing his hand over her mouth so she can't even scream out in pain.

One laughs. "Don't use her all up, Mace. I wanna get my part too."

In half a heartbeat, they aren't in the Arena. There's no swamp, no Careers, no Games. They're on a dusty road, Hetty screaming as the Peacekeepers hurt her, but Birdy isn't helpless this time.

Without thinking, Birdy pulls the dagger from her belt and runs at them.

They don't even hear here coming, they're too focused on torturing their fellow Career.

Birdy jumps on Two's back and stabs the blade deep into his neck, sending blood everywhere, even on the One's face.

The other boy is so startled, maybe thinks she's some kind of mutt, that he doesn't even try to fight, just runs in the opposite direction and into the thick foliage after slipping a few times in the muck.

Once he's gone, Birdy turns her attention back to the Two.

He's pathetic, writhing on the ground and trying to hold pressure over the gaping wound in his neck.

It'll do him no good though.

"I cut your artery," she tells him coolly. "Better than you deserve."

His eyes bulge and he makes an unpleasant gurgling noise, his bloody fingers slipping at his neck, before making a final gasping noise. Then he's still.

His cannon fires, and Birdy is shaken back into her wits.

Glancing at the trees, Birdy drops down beside him and begins turning out his pocket, searching him for useful items. He's dead, he has no use for any of it. Not that she would care if he did.

She finds some jerky, more iodine, and some matches, before a little gasping noise pulls her attention away.

Behind her, the girl from Four is trying to cover herself where her shirt is ripped, still crying and wiping her face with her muddy and bloody hands.

She fifteen, Birdy remembers that from her interview, an only child. Her name is Nym.

Her clothing is in tatters, covered in blood and muck. She's a mess, just like Hetty had been, and Birdy can't stop herself feeling a little sick at the sight of her, badly for what she'd just been through to entertain the Capitol.

She's going to die, half naked and terrified, all in the name of appeasing the Capitol.

Pulling the parachute from her belt, Birdy walks to her and holds it out. "Here, take it."

Nym staggers back, her bare back against the tree and her eyes wide, flickering from the parachute to Birdy and back again.

"Take it," Birdy shakes it for emphasis. "Please."

Swallowing, Nym reaches out and snatches the material, clutching it to her chest.

Giving her a small smile, hoping she has enough sense to run before the One comes back, Birdy turns to go back to her allies.

"You-You're not going to kill me?"

Stuffing her spoils of war in her pocket, Birdy shakes her head. "Wasn't planning on it."

Giving her another smile, Birdy points away from where the One had run.

"I'd get out of here. He might come back."

Nodding, the girl gets up, her chin still quivering, before vanishing into the jungle.

#######

Birdy isn't even a little sorry she'd killed the boy from Two, not even as she recounts the tale after reconnecting with the other.

"You don't know where Four's girl got to?" Gus asks, scratching his head with his gig.

"No," Birdy shakes her head sadly, pushing the non-existent guilt from her mind. "She didn't look so good. I don't think she'll last long. The One on the other hand…"

Laisa cast a weary look toward the swamp, toward the only glimmer of hope the Arena had offered and just as quickly taken away. "They'll be hunting for us soon."

Dash glares at Birdy. "You should have let them kill her. Quenched their need for blood for a while."

Birdy narrows her eyes at him. "They weren't just going to kill her. I couldn't just stand by and-"

"Well you'll have to!" He hisses. "You know where you are? You know what has to happen for you to go home!"

"Of course she does!" Laisa squeaks. "Dash of course she does!"

"Lay off her," Gus snaps, giving the older boy a stern look. "She got rid of the boy from Two, that's blood, so lay off her."

Dash look ready to argue. His lips become a tight line and he snorts out his nose before turning and stomping away, wiping the thick sweat off his brow as he does.

The remaining three exchange worried looks before carefully following after him.

#######

Hours tick by, but the sun doesn't indicate it. The Arena is never changing, static around them. Day have gone by, they know that, but no one is able to pinpoint how many. There's no way to tell whether it's day or night, minutes or hours past, and it's maddening.

The hunger slowly became overwhelming.

Normally, in the heat, Birdy grows disinterested in food.

Back home she would force herself to eat something small, preferably cool, and drink plenty of water. The arena, however, is designed to make them constantly think of the clearly nonexistent food.

The jerky looted from the Two is rationed out, but it's gone before they've found any other source.

They find a tantalizingly non-glowing bird and kill it, only to find it hollow on the inside. Some kind of balloon according to Dash. Birdy has no idea what a balloon is, but as it's inedible she doesn't really care.

There are hundreds of succulent fruits and berries, but just like the first they either burst open and revealed a monster or spew acid like juice.

One particularly vicious bush had looked innocuous enough, only to shoot out thorns at them when they get too close and giving Birdy a pus filled whelp on her thigh. Another belches out spores that sends them all into coughing fits and swells their eyes shut for hours after Birdy pokes it with her gig. Dash had been livid with her after that, telling her to keep her 'pointy stick' away from everything from then on.

They encounter the spiders again, accidentally running into one of their enormous webs. They only narrowly escape, running into a marshy area that explodes with phosphorescent fires that singes the hair, as well as the spiders, off their bodies.

To make matters worse, they don't receive a single gift after the canteens.

That's to be expected. They aren't favorites, and Birdy probably deprived the masses of a violent attack and murder. Definitely not the way to gain their goodwill.

As their water dwindles they consider circling back to the swamp only to find the trail behind them has shifted. Nothing is where it should be. Their footprints have even vanished, absorbed into the soft mud.

"This is impossible!" Gus grits his teeth. "We can't go back, we're afraid to go forward, we have no water or food…"

Birdy frowns up at the canopy.

"And the sun is no help. It doesn't move, or fade, or change at all." She presses her fingers to her eyes. "There are no stars, there's no moon, there's no rhythm! I can't even tell how long we've been in here!" She glares at the trees. "Is that the plan? Make us all go crazy? Well congratulations! You've done it!"

She's definitely lost her marbles.

"Will you two SHUT UP!"

Dash has a manic glint to his eyes as he shouts.

He's been teetering on the brink since the incident with the spiders. Dash simply isn't cut out for the wilds of the jungle.

He pokes a finger in Birdy's face. "Stop taunting them! You think things aren't hard enough! As far as we know there are only ten of us left and-"

A cannon booms and the face of the girl from One swims on the broad leaf of a banana tree beside them.

Dash's eyes widen and his finger drops from Birdy's face. Which is good, she's so hungry she was considering biting it off…

"One's girl…" Laisa looks around anxiously. "She was tough. What do you suppose happened?"

"A vicious love triangle," Birdy answers, rolling her eyes. She gives Dash a very pointed look. "If you're through having a hissy fit we'll keep moving. No sense going backward."

#######

They've only just stumbles into a small cave when they hear the dripping noise.

It isn't much of a noise, but it's wet and they're all so thirsty that they eagerly begin searching it out. They're water canteens had dried out the day before.

The cold black walls are lined with glowing trails of moss that spiral in every direction. Fungi cower in the crevices, glowing green and purple and red, creating grotesque shadows along the walls.

After ten minutes Laisa made an excited noise.

"I found some," she whispers loudly.

Rubbing her hand on the rough rock, she smiles as she holds it out and it shimmers wet. She's seconds from licking the liquid right off the rock when Gus stops her.

"That's not water, Laisa."

He holds a green glowing fungus in his hand up to the wall and the substance glitters black.

"Blood," he whispers, running a finger over it then sniffing it in disgust.

Birdy does the same, smelling the familiar, coppery scent and grimacing.

"But this is where the dripping is coming from…" Laisa begins fretting, pointing down to the small pool of blood. The source of the plopping, dripping noise.

Gus's eyebrows rise as he looks at Birdy and lifts the fungus up, higher on the wall.

There, apparently unconscious, oozing blood, is the girl from Four. Her formerly golden hair is matted and filthy and she no longer glows from the sun.

Dash frowns up at her. "Why's she there?"

Birdy squints around, uncertain and a little worried, before Dash begins loudly trying to wake the girl.

"Hey! Four!" He hisses up at her.

She stirs, groaning and whimpering, her pale face appearing over the edge of her perch.

For a moment she silent, then she sees Birdy and begins pulling at her hair, tugging it out in tufts and waving frantically toward the back of the cave.

"P-p-p-" She trips over her words. "P-p-p-ig!"

"Pig?" Gus frowns, squinting around in confusion.

Birdy directs his attention to the very large wallow at the back of the cave.

Another mutt.

"Let's, uh, just, uh, back quietly out," Gus whispers, slowly stepping back and away, toward the exit.

The Four might be too weak to escape the mutt boar's lair, but they aren't.

Unfortunately, they are too late to notice it arriving home behind them.

It blocks the entrance, snorting and filling the cave with its vile breath, yellow eyes glowing and narrowed at them.

"Up. Up would be good," Gus squeaks.

They scramble up the wall as the mutt charges at them.

Gus lugs Laisa up the wall, just barely fitting both of them on a small shelf of rock out of the mutt's reach before it crashes into the wall below them.

Dash is just ahead of Birdy and she pushes his foot up, helping him up to a jagged bit of rock before reaching for a hand up. No hand reaches back for her.

"Dash! A little help!" She shouts up, fighting to pull herself up, nails breaking and her feet slipping on the moss as she prays the pig mutt's attention isn't drawn to her just yet.

"I'm-I'm sorry Birdy!"

She looks up frantically, confused.

Dash is crying as he brings his foot down on her fingers.

Birdy barely has time to scream, to seethe with disgust, as pain shoots through her fingers and she loses her grip.

She tumbles down, scraping across the wall and losing some of her fingernails in the process. It's probably making compelling television, she thinks vaguely.

Her shoulder made an unpleasant cracking noise as she lands on it again, and her face slams against the ground, her nose bursting with blood.

The mutt tramples across the top of her, narrowly missing her head as she rolls herself into a ball to avoid its hooves, her blood blinding her momentarily as she frantically swats it away and tries to find her bearings.

She would likely die in the arena, but she wasn't going to die by mutt-boar, and she definitely isn't going to die because of Dash.

Without much of a plan, Birdy focuses on avoiding the mutt's hooves as they pound the ground around her.

Something cracks, sickeningly and loudly, echoing through the cave, and just as suddenly as the mutt had started stomping, he stops.

Looking up, Birdy sees the beast stumble one way and then another, its eyes rolled to the back of its head, before slumping forward.

It had bucked its head, smashing it into a low jutting bit of jagged rock hanging from the ceiling, knocking itself out cold.

Gus slides easily from its back, looking out of breath and sweaty, but very pleased with himself.

"That was some nice riding, if I do say so myself," he laughs, pointing to the low bit of rock that had been her savior.

"Damn good." Birdy nods before looking around, wiping more blood from her face. She's going to kill Dash when she get her hands on him.

"Dash!" Laisa screams as she jumps from her rock shelf and to the mutt, down to the ground.

Dash is lying crumpled on the ground, small gurgling noises bubbling out of him by the time the other three get to him tripping over debris and landing on their knees beside him.

His wide pale eyes are full of tears. "I'm sorry." He blubbers. "So sorry."

Birdy nods. "It's alright."

"I just wanted to go home," he says, crying harder.

"I know," Birdy mutters again, taking in the awful gash gushing blood from the back of his head, the erratic way his chest is moving. He's dying.

"I want my mom."

"Yeah," Gus says. "We know."

He sighs as he looks at Birdy. He knows as well as her that Dash is not long for the world.

Laisa hold his hand tightly as he takes a final few shuddering breaths. Then he stills.

A cannon fires and his thin face shimmers on the cave wall.

"What was he saying?" Laisa asks, brushing her district partner's matted hair from his face, trying to make him presentable one last time. She gives Birdy a watery look. "What happened?"

They had to have seen, they were right there, but Laisa seems to want to hear it from her.

Laisa's so broken looking, so fragile, that the lie slips from Birdy's lips without thought.

"It was too small. I slipped."

A moment passes like an eternity as Laisa stares at her, letting the lie soak in. Then she nods. "You slipped."

"He tried to catch me, but he couldn't," Birdy adds.

She wants to believe Birdy. She wants to believe so badly.

Laisa nods again, more tears slipping from her cheeks. "You slipped."

#######

Another cannon fires a few minutes after they carry Dash from the cave and the face of the girl from Four appears on the side of the cave.

"Guess we should carry her out too, huh?"

As Gus crawls up the side of the cave once more to carry down Nym, Birdy and Laisa wait by the entrance, keeping watch for any of the others.

"There are seven of us left," Laisa finally mutters as she watches a burning red butterfly flutter past.

"Yep," is all Birdy can think to say.

"Us three," she holds up her fingers, "the boy from One, the girl from Two, the girl from Eight, and the boy from Six."

"Sounds right," Birdy nods. She really isn't sure where this line of thinking is going.

Laisa suddenly looks over, eyes full of tears once more. "When do we split up?"

"What?" Birdy wrinkled her nose. "You want to split up? Why?"

"Because!" She gestures roughly to Dash's limp body. "It's down to the wire! They'll be interviewing our families soon! We can't stay together much longer!"

It's reasonable enough, Birdy thinks. They can't stay together indefinitely. Still, Laisa won't last long on her own and the thought of the One or even the Two winning, after everything that's happened, makes her ill.

"Not yet," Birdy finally shakes her head. "We can't split yet. Think of the ratings, Laisa. We're surely the biggest bunch of half-starved misfits in years."

Laisa frowns and looked confused for a minute before catching on.

They're still the largest pack in the arena and that provides them some measure of safety. The two remaining careers will turn on each other soon, if they haven't already, and with any luck will take each other out. Then it'll be a game of attrition. They'll all starve sooner or later, unless food comes from above.

Or they eat each other.

Gus comes carrying Nym from Four out and gently sets her next to Dash, brushing her filthy hair away from her face.

"She looks like Mary Phipps," he says sadly, looking at the other two. "One of the girls from my home."

They leave the bodies and march out into the muggy, glowing jungle, one member short and two lives closer to the end.

#######

After what seems to be several hours they hear yelping and howling.

Gus looks behind them, toward where the cave would be if the jungle weren't constantly shifting.

Only it hasn't shifted this time. There footprints are still deep and visible, plants are still trampled. It's a bit ominous.

"Was that another mutt?" He asks, eyeing the ground warily, waiting for it to erase their path.

"Nope," Birdy answers, staring at the plants, almost willing them to wipe their path away. She wants the consistency of inconsistency at least.

It doesn't come though.

"That," she finally jabs a finger back at their trail, "was human…ish."

Laisa frowns deeply, pushing her sweaty hair from her face. "Ish?"

"Yeah…humanish. Sorta, but not so much."

"Okay." Gus waves his hand back at the still present plants they'd carelessly trampled. "Should we go check it out?"

Since the path behind them hasn't vanished like all their others they decide quickly the Gamemakers are less than subtly trying to encourage them back.

There seems no better choice than to take the bait.

Birdy brings up the rear, grumbling to herself. "There better be food after this."

#######

"You have got to be kidding me."

Birdy's nose wrinkles as she looks over to Gus and Laisa, both wearing matching looks of horror.

The path had finally disappeared and they'd followed the inhuman sounds, stumbling down to a small, trickling stream filled with thousands of fluffy, translucent, glowing marshmallow like creatures with fluttery tentacles. Despite looking like creamy puffs, they had known better, and decided to avoid them as they hopped over the stream, stone by glowing stone. When they reached the other side they heard a scuffle, just past a thick line of bushes laden with animal filled fruit.

Since they knew those particular bushes were not likely to kill them they crawled under.

Then they received the shock of their life.

The hulking boy from Six, Titus, had been heaving and huffing, bellowing out and lunging at the lanky girl from Eight.

They sounded like a pair of wild cats, hissing and screeching as they battled in the open area. It had apparently been carrying on for some time because they both looked a little worse for wear, but Birdy figured as she had looked down at herself and her comrades, they didn't look so great either.

The girl had knocked the boy in the face with a branch. In retaliation he'd backhanded her into one of the spore filled bushes. The girl's eyes instantly swelled shut and she began swinging wildly at him, but it was useless. He'd been far enough away the spores hadn't affected him. The Capitol audience was treated to its third death in a few hours when Titus snatched the Eight up by her mud colored hair, then snapped her neck.

That's where it should have ended.

The boy from Six should have left the body for the hovercrafts, just as they'd left Dash and the Nym from Four, and he should have gone on his way.

But he didn't.

The people of Panem had seen many horrible things over the years. They'd witnessed countless brutal murders of young children broadcast over national television for the entertainment of the Capitol and the punishment of the Districts.

This, however, was another level of horror.

Not even the Capitol can be enjoying this, Birdy thinks as she squeezes her eyes shut. Not even she can stomach some things.

Titus from six is eating Eight.

He bends over her lifeless body and tears into her shoulder with his teeth, blood dripping from his mouth.

"You have got to be kidding me," Birdy mutters again. "This is beyond the pale."

Laisa is green. Birdy half expects her to vomit and blow their cover, and Gus has gone as pale as he had on Reaping day.

The Games are no holds barred. This though…Birdy frantically hopes there is a handbook for the Games and that there is a section condemning eating your fellow Tributes. If there isn't, there ought to be.

There's a cracking noise and an unpleasant ripping as the Six dismembers the Eight, pulling her right arm off and biting into it.

Clearly hunger has sat far less favorably with him than anyone else.

A fuchsia lizard darts to the carcass, trying to steal a finger, but Titus is having none of it. He uses the Eight's arm to bat at the animal, slapping it away. It skitters off, hissing its displeasure.

"I can't watch anymore," Laisa buries her face in her hands. "This is-I can't-I-I-"

Gus pats her head then looks to Birdy.

She already knows what he's thinking.

Even the Capitol can't stomach this kind of savagery.

"They led us here to get rid of him," he glances back at the bloody scene.

"They should do it themselves," she tells him. "They made this monster. Let them send one of their mutts to off him."

She doesn't want to get any closer to him than she has to.

"Where's the drama in that?"

Birdy groans. He's right. This is the kind of delightful confrontation the Capitol loves.

"Why couldn't that jerk from One have been nearby?" She grumbles as she crouches down with Gus to plan their attack.

Then again, they may not want one of their last, precious Careers in biting distance of Titus.

"Alright, we need to distract him," Gus begins, glancing at Laisa who has curled into a ball. He frowns. "Birdy, I think that's up to you."

"Fantastic, I'm very distracting."

He rolls his eyes and lifts his gig, eyeing it critically before sighing. "I'll get him through the back."

"Good plan. Assuming it works."

#######

Birdy silently slips around the open area, to the farthest side from Gus and Laisa. She isn't sure what she needs to do, but if she thinks about it too much she'll lose her nerve.

Titus rips off a hunk of the Eight's other shoulder.

"Hey UGLY!"

Not original, Birdy thinks to herself as she pops out from the bush.

She picks one of the fruits from the bush and lobs it at his middle.

It burst open on contact, breaking into silvery winged butterflies that flutter around his body for a moment as he swats at them before catching several and crushing them in his bloody hands.

His mouth dripping with Eights blood, he snarls. She certainly has his full attention, at least until Gus steps on a twig. It seems amplified, and maybe is, adding to the atmosphere for the viewing audience. The brutes head snaps around, to Gus, smiling sheepishly behind him.

"Whoops."

Titus apparently finds Gus to be a more appealing dessert and starts to lunge at him when Birdy, in a fit of blind terror, grabs the nearest thing to her to throw and regain his attention. That turns out to be one of the fuchsia lizards.

Birdy makes a noise, somewhere between a scream of terror and a war cry, as she launches the lizard at his head.

If it weren't a life or death moment it might've been funny.

His face pulls back into a snarl just as the pink reptile collides with his nose and begins clawing at his cheeks.

Gus watches with a look of deep confusion until Birdy shouts something obscene and starts scaling the tree as Titus charges at her. She's too slow, though, and he grabs her by the hair, flinging her back out to the open area. He jumps at her as she rolls just under his feet and hears Gus snap back to attention.

Gus jabs his gig, catching him in the shoulder.

Birdy groans, not a kill hit. Titus simply jerks his shoulder, knocking Gus down and causing Birdy to curse again. They're just too small and he's too strong and crazy.

Scrambling to her feet, she watches in horror as one of Titus' giant feet stomps down hard on Gus's chest.

With as much thought as she's capable of she runs at him, jumping on his back and wrapping her arms around his thick neck. She claws at his face and slams her heel into his stomach, aiming for his groin.

Someone screams, then, before Birdy can see where it had come from, she's on the ground.

Laisa is pitching a fit Birdy didn't know she was capable of. Her boney fingers are balled up, and she's wailing inhumanly, pounding every inch of Titus she can get to.

It stuns Birdy, but it terrifies Titus. He crawls away, shaking Laisa off before running off into the inky dimly glowing undergrowth, howling in fear.

Laisa screams at his retreating figure, pulling at what's left of her hair, before collapsing into a puddle of tears and wails.

Birdy stares at her for a minute, something is wrong with her, but stops when she hears Gus making a gurgling noise. Whatever is wrong with Laisa will have to wait.

Assessing his injuries, Birdy grimaces when he coughs up bright blood.

"Gus?"

He grimaces but doesn't say anything.

She holds his hand for a minute before she feels someone slump beside her.

"Is he going to be okay?"

Birdy shakes her head, blinks back tears. No sense lying.

"I think he's broken some ribs. Look," she waves her hand at his crumpled chest, strange breathing, his trachea pulling off to the right slightly. "Probably a collapsed lung. I seen it before, when wranglers got stomped."

If there were a doctor around he might make it, but that's not how the Game is played.

Besides, even with attention, most like this don't make it. All it does it prolong the inevitable.

She bits her lip. Gus won't last long, not long at all.

His eyes flutter open.

"Was-n't." Wheeze. "Mu-ch." Wheeze. "He-lp."

"Shush. You did fine. He's a beast anyways," Birdy smooths his hair, just like her mom had done for her when she was little. She chokes back a sob. "You done good, Gus. Done good."

He nods weakly and squeezes her hand, gently urging her down closer. It was too hard for him to talk.

"Going," he gulps. "Hurts. Please."

Birdy can feel the tears in her eyes. She won't let them fall though. She shakes her head, blinks them back. "No. Please, Gus, no."

He's hurting. He's begging her to finish it.

"Gotta. Please. Hurts."

Even if he holds on, he'll be in excruciating pain. Struggling to breath. Slowly dying. He's a burden to their group now. He knows it.

Birdy pulls her dagger from her belt.

She wishes it were Dash struggling to breath. He and Laisa were the weak points. They had deserved to be cut from the herd. If she and Gus hadn't been so softhearted…the other Tributes deserved it. Not Gus. Gus wasn't a weak link.

Except now he is.

And he knows it.

"What are you doing?" Laisa's voice trembles and she grabs her hand. "Birdy, no!"

"He's suffering," she whispers, brushing his hair again, forcing a smile for him.

"No," Laisa's tears began falling. "No, no, no."

Gus smiles for her, his eyes shimmering. He won't cry though.

"Please."

Birdy presses the knife to his throat, feels his warm life quickly pour out of him and onto her hands.

Then the cannon fires.

"Bye Gus."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply.

Laisa is more than dead weight after Gus' death, but Birdy can't find it in herself to blame her.

Gus had been their glue, level headed and kind. Without him, Birdy feels her temper shorten and patience with Laisa's feet dragging grow brittle.

Still, she grinds her teeth and drags her final ally with her through the deadly jungle, avoiding venomous creatures and avoiding ominous growls.

Time either goes too fast or isn't moving at all, it's impossible to tell. All Birdy knows is that thirst is becoming an increasingly likely death for both she and Laisa.

They need water, but when they finally find their way back to the swamp, canteens opened and ready, it's empty.

The Gamemakers, probably hoping to force a showdown between the remaining five, have drained it. There isn't so much as a soggy patch. They hadn't even bothered to rescue their mutt-fish and serpentine monsters. Hundreds of them are scattered, dead and dry as a summer noonday, across the low area the swamp had occupied.

Leaving Laisa at the edge, Birdy slides down the shallow side and lands with a crunch on the dried out husk of a fish as large as her.

It's been hollowed out, maybe eaten by the noisy bugs and slithering monsters lurking around them. Birdy still searches it for any traces of water or food. Even a bit of moist flesh would do them good. Laisa has been eyeing the leaves, her dry mouth desperate for whatever moisture they might provide.

It's more than a little worrisome.

"Damnit," she mutters, straightening up, glaring at the useless carcass before crawling out.

"Nothing," she tells Laisa.

She only gets a whimper in reply as Laisa slumps into the hollow of an enormous tree, half vanishing into the twisting vines around it.

Birdy almost snaps at her to get it together, they're all in the same position, but stops herself when she catches sight of Laisa's eyes.

Not even the strange electric glow from the plants or bugs reflect in them. They might as well be empty sockets.

It takes all the fire from her snarl.

Laisa isn't meant for the Arena, not for the Games, and she has no hope of surviving.

Too much has happened to her and she just isn't made to handle it.

For half a heartbeat it isn't Laisa curled up, crying into her filthy knees, but Hetty.

It's easy to see her sister in Laisa's dirty dark hair, hear her sobs, sense just how close to teetering over the edge she is in every gasp she takes, and suddenly Birdy knows exactly what she needs to do. What she has to do.

"It's okay, Laisa," she gently tells her only ally. "You're gonna be okay."

Laisa may be a weak link, but she's the better person. The Victors need good people among them as far as Birdy can tell, people who they can't turn into dolls like they have with Miss Mary and Ms Lons. Laisa is no doll, not someone they'll want. She'll be safe in her victory.

Birdy is certain of it.

"You're gonna be okay."

#######

It rains blood a few hours later.

Birdy finds it oddly fitting. Very theatrical, probably shows up quite beautifully on the Capitol's televisions as it oozes into every crease and crevice, dripping with thick plods around them, echoing in Birdy's head.

It sizzles and burns, melts through the leaves when it makes contact. It ignites into starbursts when it hits the dry ground, brilliant burst of blinding light and noise louder and more disorienting than all the incessant buzzing noises of the insects combined erupts around them.

Worse than the noise is the smell. Boiling blood, a suffocating coppery smell fills the Arena, causing Laisa to vomit what little is left in her stomach all over both she and Birdy's shoes, adding a soured odor to the mix as they run for cover.

Because the thick, scarlet liquid is scalding hot as it falls from the blank sky.

Before they can take cover in an overhanging rock they're both hit with large globs that splatters on their exposed skin.

Nothing happens at first, and Birdy thinks maybe it's some kind of joke.

Then every nerve the blood rain hits on her body ignites.

Birdy's jacket melts to her skin and most of her hair is singed off, the skin on her face is raw, every exposed inch of skin blistered and bleeding by the time they find a narrow overhand of the rocky mountain where the boar-mutt's cave is to hid under. Laisa looks like a tenderized steak and it makes Birdy's eyes water to even look at her.

They spend hours cowering under the overhang, Laisa retching at the smell and whimpering as Birdy tries to guard her face from the splatter.

If any cannons boomed they'd never know. The booming, pounding of the blood rain, the blinding brightness of it, makes it impossible to know anything beyond whether they themselves are alive.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops.

The sky is no longer filled with blinding red rain, but is restored to its inky, starless black blanket of nothingness. Even the false sun reappears above, back in its original place high above them, just as unmoving and unhelpful as before.

The bugs begin to hum again, though how any of them survived is anyone's guess. More Capitol wizardry probably.

Then the announcer's voice booms out, clear as if he were right next to them.

"To our Final Four!-"

"All that and only one of them died?"

Just Birdy's luck.

"Congratulations! As we are sure you've all noticed food is a bit scarce in this glowing wonderland."

Birdy rolls her eyes. "No shit. Are you going to give us something to eat or watch us slowly starve to death?" She smirks up at the sun, "Or should we all go the way of Six and just eat our kills?"

"Haha!" The voice chuckles, sounding a little uncomfortable. "Well we can assure you at our little Feast they'll be delights the like of which you can scarcely imagine."

Stomach lurching, Birdy can imagine quite a few delights she's be happy with.

"When the sun turns red the Cornucopia will be laden with everything you could hope for. Come and you'll see!"

Birdy squints up at the sun, noting the yellow creeping in with orange, and sighs.

"Laisa?" She turns to her last ally, curled up in a ball, eyes darting around, following a brilliant blue glowing bug skittering past her. "I have to go. We need food. You just stay here, alright?"

Laisa doesn't respond, just curls tighter into herself, eyes still following the bug.

#######

Birdy makes sure Laisa is tucked safely against the mountain before beginning her trek through the jungle.

For half a moment she'd worried the Gamemakers might be drawing them out to have their mutts finish them off, but quickly shakes that thought off. They'll want a final showdown between the final four, or three as it is now. Not so much as a glow snake nips at Birdy's heels as she pushes through the green foliage toward the Cornucopia.

Finally, she sees something glowing toxic green through the bushes, and after a few more yards, creeps up under one of the bushes and peaks out at the now brightly blazing Cornucopia.

As she watches, it dulls and brightens, pulsing, waiting for the other Tributes to arrive, anticipating a second bloodbath. There are probably watch parties, people betting on who'll die next and in what way. She hopes it's boring as sin just to spite them.

Suddenly, it flares too bright to look at and Birdy has to shield her eyes, and when she looks back, a table as long as a barn back home, has been set up with hundreds of pounds of food.

Bowls spill over with fruits, four goblets are set out in front of several barrels of drinks, at the center of the table is a roast pig, and behind it is a plate stacked high with bacon. Birdy's mouth waters and her stomach lurches. She can almost taste the smells floating around her as she tries to plan the safest way to get to it and get it back to Laisa.

That's when the girl from Two bursts from the bushes across from her.

She sprints to the table and begins stuffing anything she can get her hands on into her pockets.

Her body is as bloodied and battered as Laisa and Birdy's. Her legs ooze blood and it looks like one of her eyes has been plucked from her face.

Two's eyes dart around, anticipating an attack, a mutt, something, but it doesn't come before she dashes back toward her bushes, but not quick enough.

Titus from Six crashes through the brush in front of her, his mouth twisted in a snarl.

Half his face is melted off, nose missing, one of his ears dangling from the side of his head, teeth missing and blood oozing from his mouth, he isn't a pretty sight as his bloodshot eyes roll in his head as he looks at the girl from Two.

He doesn't even glance at the heavily laden table, just lunges at the Two, his remaining teeth bared.

The Two pulls a knife from her back pocket, stabs him several times as he slams his enormous boney fists into every inch of her he can get to, but Titus is past the point of feeling. Her efforts make no different.

Teeth gnashing, he bites into her shoulder as she lets out a scream that could freeze blood.

A strip of her flesh is ripped from her arm and she continues to slash and stab, but he doesn't stop. He bites off an ear, then a chunk of her cheek, her hand gets caught in his mouth as she fights him off, letting out another awful scream when he takes off a finger, then he pins her to the ground.

With one final scream, the Two quiets when Titus tears into her throat, turning her voice into a gurgle.

Birdy watches for a minute as the Two flails around, tries to hold her gushing neck fruitlessly as Titus begins ripping her belly open with her own knife, starts pulling her intestines out and eating them.

Gagging, Birdy looks to the table.

She could get to it and away without problem. Titus from Six is wholly absorbed with his own personal feast.

He'll still be lurking around though. Here and now, he's visible, and after watching him eat at least his second Tribute, Birdy is fairly certain the Capitol won't be rooting for him. She's at the advantage. This isn't an opportunity she can pass up.

For the first time since the opening of the Games, she might just be a fan favorite. She's got to use her chance to get Laisa out of this hell hole.

Running to the table, Birdy snatches up one of the golden goblets.

With what's left of her strength, she flings the heavy cup at the Six, sending it sailing through the air gracefully, before cracking against the side of his already bloody skull.

"Hey!" She shouts, standing on the table. "Six! What are you doing? There's food right here! Why are you eating a person when we have bacon?"

It's not exactly a brilliant plan, but her mind is fuzzy, hungry and thirsty. Weaving an amazing plan isn't something she feels completely up to at the moment.

Six grunts, looks around duly, some of the Two's intestines dangling from his mouth.

Birdy feels her stomach lurch at the sight.

Licking blood from his face, looking more like a feral animal than a human, Titus lumbers to his feet, staggering before letting out a strangled snarl and running clumsily at the table.

Jumping from the table, Birdy snatches up a handful of bacon and an apple before racing back into the surrounding jungle.

They crash through the undergrowth, fluorescent bugs and reptiles scattering madly around them. Hollow birds erupted into bubbles of fire. The brightness of the fire and the animals only make the darkness that much worse and Birdy struggles to keep her eyes focused as she pants and wheezes. Her body protests every step, every jump, every breath, but she struggles on, just out of Six's grasp.

The Boar's mountain comes into view and Birdy momentarily considers finding the cave, running in and waking the beast, hoping it might take care of the Six for her when she hears a blood curdling scream.

For the next few minutes the world seems to spin, everything moves both very fast and very slowly, makes no sense.

Laisa's appears, running, screaming from somewhere to Birdy's right, a gaping hole in her middle, guts and pus pouring out of her abdomen, spilling onto the ground as she stumbles arounds.

Blood, horrible and dark, oozes from her eyes, drips down her face, and when she lets out another scream Birdy sees that several of her teeth have fallen out, her gums a hateful red and swelling. Laisa grasps at her head, clumps of her dark hair come out in chunks, scalp still attached.

She's falling apart, and for one stunned moment Birdy is frozen in the spot, unsure what's happened.

Then Laisa collapses and a cannon fires.

Birdy barely registers the noise when an enormous hand yanks Birdy back by the hair, throwing her into the rocks. Her raw skin tears as skids to a stop on the broken rocks, her head cracking against a large bolder.

She sees stars, then feels Titus's bloody hands around her neck.

Struggling for air, Birdy manages to push him off with her feet, sending him to the ground easily as he slips on the loose rock underfoot.

Scrambling away, she limps toward where Laisa's body is still laying in a pile. If she's going to die, she wants to be by her last friend when it happens.

Then the ground begins to shake.

Birdy's first thought is that it must be a stampede even though that's ridiculous. There surely aren't enough mutts to cause this much of a disturbance...

Even though she has no strength, and no desire to keep fighting, the ingrained reflex kicks in.

"You hear one coming, you climb up a tree, got that kid," she remembers Jefferson telling her once. "Off the ground is the best chance you got of surviving."

"Ah, Jefferson," her dad had laughed. "She is my little bird. No climbing for her. No, she will fly."

Birdy wishes she really could fly now. Her arms are limp and her legs boneless as she slams into the closest tree, splinters digging into her hands.

Clinging to the limb, she closes her eyes as tightly as she can, hears Titus' inhuman wailing as the mountain begins erupting and crumbling under them, but she doesn't look.

Later she'll watch the replay, see Titus crushed under the collapsing rocks of the Boar's cave mountain in what she eventually is certain was a Gamemaker orchestrated avalanche. She'll learn that Laisa had given in to hunger and crushed and eaten one of the bugs the group had refused days earlier. She'll see the final two faces projected onto the empty sky and know she was the winner. At the moment, though, she can't think, doesn't know, doesn't care.

When the rumbling stops and she finally, shakily, opens her eyes, the Six and Laisa are gone, buried under the rocks.

"Ladies and Gentlemen-"

That horrible voice booms and echoes around her.

"I present to you the Victor of the 67th Annual Hunger Games: Phoebe Alameda!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Same warnings as the first chapter apply.

Birdy doesn't remember what happens after they pull her from the Arena.

She wakes for moments at a time, blinks into white light and hears voices she doesn't know, before drifting into blissful unconsciousness again.

Sometimes Hetty and Matt stay with her as she floats in the twilight between life and death. They tell her they love her, they miss her, they'll see her again someday…

Other times it's her dad, laughing and reminding her of when he'd take her horseback riding, speaking to her in another language, one forbidden by the Capitol...

Her mother's voice sings softly, some old song about a tree and lovers, one she'd put the kids to bed with every night when they'd been very small...

Finally, Birdy's eyes slowly open, squint into the dark room.

She doesn't know it, and for a moment she's confused. Had she been sick? Did Momma Muetter put her to bed?

Then, in one blink, she remembers.

The Arena, all the noise and bugs and blood, the mountain falling down, fill her head, overwhelm her, and she nearly falls from the bed.

"Careful," someone tells her, gently easing her back onto the bed. "You're still healing."

Birdy pushes the warm hands away, thrashes around, before she spots Miss Mary sitting at the edge of the bed, her expression tight.

For a few moments they're both quiet, Birdy's breathing erratic as she tries to push all the awfulness out of her head, turn it into a nightmare and nothing more, while Miss Mary silently waits.

"It was real, wasn't it?" Birdy finally asks, already knowing the answer.

None of it, not the noise or the blood or the death, was made up. None of it was a nightmare. It was real, she'd lived it. Survived it.

Miss Mary's lips twitch up as she scoots closer on the bed, a little sigh escaping.

"I'm sorry, Ph-Birdy."

Hours seem to stretch between them, filling with a kind of quiet more deafening than all the artificial bugs the Capitol could ever produce, before something warm and wet slides down Birdy's face.

Swatting away tears, Birdy takes a shuddering breath, shaking her head. None of this is right.

"I didn't want to win."

It's a curse, she's sure of it. She's seen the emptiness in Miss Mary and Miss Lons' eyes, an echo of Hetty's shattered look right before she'd died. If her sister hadn't been strong enough to survive that, Birdy is sure she isn't.

"I can't-I can't-"

"Sh-sh-sh-sh," Miss Mary reaches out, tries to comfort her, but Birdy backs away.

"I don't want this-"

"I know-"

"I can't do it-"

"I know-"

"You don't!" Birdy snaps, silencing Miss Mary. "You don't know! You wanted to win, you chose this! I was-this was an accident!"

One big mistake. There should be a contingency for this. There has to be.

Miss Mary doesn't speak, just watches Birdy frantically pull at what's left of her hair and rub her face, try to wake herself.

There's no waking though.

She doesn't know she's started sobbing until her air becomes short and she has to gasp for breath, feels it burn in her chest, just another reminder that despite her wishes, she's still among the living. Death wouldn't be half as painful.

Finally, her body gives in and her tears subside, leaving her sore and gutted, hollow all the way through as she finally looks at Miss Mary.

A sad, sweet smile hangs on her lips as she sighs.

"Accident or fate, you're a Victor now."

A strange, knot forms in the center of Birdy's stomach as she tries to clear her vision, nods weakly.

There's no escape now. She may not be in the Arena, but she's certain the Games are only just beginning.

"What am I going to do?" She hears herself ask, not really expecting an answer.

Miss Mary's expression doesn't change as she stares, her eyes filling with enough hopelessness to overflow several oceans before she finds her voice.

"Survive."

That's all there is left to do. Birdy isn't quite sure she'll be able to manage that though, not considering what's ahead of her.

They slip into silence again, only broken by Birdy's sniffling, until finally Miss Mary sighs.

"They killed my baby."

Frowning, Birdy looks up, squints into the semi dark, confused as she takes in her Mentor's appearance for the first time since waking.

Miss Mary's makeup has been wiped away, leaving her face blotchy and shiny, eyes red rimmed and puffy as she studies her hands, unkempt platinum hair falling around her face and shoulders. She looks infinitely younger without all the effort, much sadder, much more broken.

"I-I'd just found out. I was so excited. It was the first good thing to happen to me since I was sixteen, but then…"

Her fingers twist into a painfully awkward knot as she looks at Birdy, eyes bright with tears.

She doesn't have to say why her baby never took its first breath, isn't with her. Birdy is bright enough to guess a million reasons why without help.

They might take it, sell it off to the highest bidder, like the strange pedigree pets Birdy's heard of them keeping, inbreed and dull witted.

Worse yet, Miss Mary would've been allowed to keep it, only to train it up to be like her. A toy for the Capitol to play with when it was old enough. The anticipation would've driven the price if it's company into the stars.

Both ends roll Birdy's stomach.

"It was for the best," Miss Mary whispers, a few tears sliding down her cheeks, dripping into her rumpled dress. "I guess I saw you, just a baby really, and I saw my only chance to have...this is the closest I'll ever be to a mother now."

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, forces a watery smile.

"Selfish, huh?"

It is, Birdy wholeheartedly agrees. No mother would want this for their child.

This is a curse, a punishment, a sentence for a crime uncommitted…

Victors aren't normal though, there's no good choices for them. No normal.

"Isn't your fault," Birdy finally mumbles, not wanting to look at her anymore. She's too fragile, pathetic even, and it makes hating her for what she's wished on Birdy that much harder.

This winning, being made a Victor, isn't her fault. She hadn't sent her any extraordinary gifts, hadn't forced her to fight, hadn't had any hand in this mess Birdy's landed herself in.

Miss Mary had simply hoped. Killing, fighting, surviving, that was all Birdy's own doing.

She hadn't had to try so hard. It would've been simpler to just run into the Cornucopia, quicker and easier. It would've been better if she hadn't tried to help Gus and Laisa. The end sum would've been the same with or without her.

It wasn't Miss Mary's doing, setting loose a monster worse than any Mutt in the Arena, making him last to the end.

That was all dumb luck, Birdy's own poor decisions, nothing more.

This was on Birdy, no one else.

"I know," Miss Mary whispers. "I'm still sorry though."

"Just help me," Birdy tells her, voice low, knowing there are ears probably listening in. "I can't-I won't be like you."

She won't survive that.

Miss Mary's mouth, so strange without the crimson lipstick, quirk up.

"You won't"

#######

"You are just the bell of the ball!"

Ursula flits around Birdy, making last minute alterations to the dress and complimenting her own genius.

She'd taken Birdy's final request for a green dress to heart it seems. The outfit she'd produced for the recap isn't quite the simple dress Birdy had asked for, but by Capitol standards it's plain indeed.

It's made of peacock feathers, shimmers in the dim light behind the stage, and the eyes seem to dance as Birdy twist on the spot. There's something ominous about the way it moves in the light, but so much feels that way since waking that Birdy shakes the sensation away.

"Really-it's really pretty, Ursula," she admits, despite hating being dressed up like some freakish doll again.

It could always be worse.

"You like it?" Ursula's eyes swim with tears. "Oh! That helps me so much! It'll make getting your wardrobe for the Tour so much easier!"

Before Birdy can say anything, ask her just what she means, Ursula and the rest of the prep team flutter off, leaving a trail of glitter and feathers in their wake as they're ushered away so that Birdy can speak with her Mentor for a few more moments before taking the stage.

"Just mind your manners and smile," Miss Mary reminds her, twisting her hands together.

She's been remade, all dolled up with bright lipstick and matching red dress. Her hair is curled again, loose and artfully arranged around her face.

It's a bit like looking at a painting. The longer Birdy stares at her, the more frightening her frozen features seem, more unnatural as the minutes tick by.

"They'll believe anything you say if you just smile."

"Right," Birdy mumbles, fidgeting on her heels.

She'd hoped she was done with the awful things, but Ursula had insisted.

"You need the height."

Miss Mary reaches out, tugs one of the tight little ringlets dangling around Birdy's face, and smiles.

"You'll do fine."

Glaring, Birdy shakes her head, sending the curl back into place.

It's a wig, like a mossy tangle plopped on her head.

The blood rain that had fried her hair in the Arena apparently had longer acting effects than the Gamemakers realized.

Despite their best efforts, Birdy's hair had remained choppy and burnt, patches of scalp clearly visible all over head. Nothing they did made it grow back, and in the end, they'd simply shaved her head.

She hadn't protested, just sat numbly as they'd buzzed what little remains of her hair off, letting it fall to the floor and be swept up under her feet before Ursula began tossing wigs at her.

They'd gone through hundreds, maybe thousands, Birdy wasn't paying much attention. Reds and blues, bubblegum pink, silvers, then, at the end, greens.

"Oh! That's just darling!" Ursula had cooed as she'd carefully placed the mossy curls on Birdy's head. "Adorable! And it works so well with your coloring."

It's awful, makes her look like some kind of demented doll, but she supposes she is now. A strange, scary doll that's murdered people, some even deserved it.

"I haven't got much choice," Birdy tells her, blowing her green bangs out of her face.

Miss Mary opens her mouth to say something, but gets cut short when one of the stage men comes and hisses for Birdy to get to her mark.

"You're on in less than a minute," he snaps, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to the taped 'X' on the ground.

Birdy narrows her eyes at him.

"I've killed people, you know?"

He looks less than impressed.

"Yeah, we saw. Stay on mark."

Seconds later he shoves her through the heavy velvet curtains, into a blinding light and thundering applause.

Fixing a smile so false onto her face that her eyes water, Birdy raises her hand and waves at the cheering crowd.

It's part of the game after all, and she's still a Tribute.

"Let the games begin."

#######

The review seems to last hours.

Birdy's face begins to ache from smiling, pretending to laugh, acting as if the blood on her hands has been washed away by the Capitol's fancy showers.

It doesn't slip off though, stays frozen in place.

Not even when they finally close the curtains around her and Mr. Flickerman claps her on the back, tells her 'good show, good show', does she let it flicker.

They drive her through the streets, toss confetti and flowers to her, before she's finally taken back to the tenth floor.

"Get some rest, child," Miss Lons tells her, giving her a gentle nudge toward the hall. "You've had quite the day."

It's a bit demeaning, being treated like a toddler told what to do and sent to bed, but Birdy doesn't argue. She is exhausted.

Her room is dark, exactly as impersonal as she'd left it the day the Games started. Someone has taken her piles of blankets from the floor and remade the bed, carefully placed the pillows back in their proper places, and Birdy quickly grabs them all off and tosses them to the floor by the window.

"Has the bed offended you?" Someone asks, startling Birdy so badly she nearly drops the last pillow.

The woman, Wiress from Three, is sitting at the small cafe table across the room, in one of the stiff little chairs, her glittering dark eyes focused on Birdy and a delicate looking teacup dangling from her fingers.

"I don't care for the bed," Birdy finally explains, throwing the last pillow away before crossing her arms and surveying her visitor. "Am I allowed to ask why you're here? Aren't you supposed to be on the third floor?"

Wiress' thin lips twitch up in a slight smile. "I go where I like. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

A moment stretches between them, the only noise the ticking of the clock on the bedside table, before Wiress sets her teacup down, waves a hand at the chair opposite her.

"Have a seat, Phoebe."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

Planting her feet, Birdy cocks an eyebrow. "I'll stand, thanks."

"Let me be clear, it wasn't a request."

"I know," Birdy smiles. "What do you want, Miss-"

"Wiress," the woman answers.

"Miss Wiress-"

"Just Wiress," she cuts her off, voice so low Birdy steps closer to hear. "I'm here to discuss your future."

Shifting uncomfortably, Birdy reaches up and pulls the wig off, tossing it onto the bed.

"What future? I've got all the future of a lamb to slaughter."

Wiress' smile grows. Somehow it makes her even less a comfort than it had originally.

"I see you understand this little game. But your knowledge is a bit-" she eyes Birdy's patchy scalp critically "-lacking."

Frowning Birdy steps closer.

"This game, Phoebe, isn't as straightforward as you seem to imagine." Wiress waves her hand at the window, toward the neon horizon. "In Ten, there are different jobs, correct?"

Birdy nods, not quite understanding what she's on about.

"Wranglers and butchers and pig sloppers," she ticks off each position, not so much as glancing at Birdy. "All different, all necessary to make the Capitol happy. Do you see what I mean?"

She looks back at Birdy, now standing at the table and listening intently.

"Not really, no," Birdy answers. "What've jobs in Ten got to do with-"

"Not those jobs. Our jobs. A game of cards isn't played with a single card or even suit. This game has many parts to keep it going."

Her dark eyes stay locked on Birdy, waiting for her to say something, until Birdy huffs.

"Anyone ever told you you're pretty damn cryptic?"

Wiress makes a disparaging noise.

"Just say what you mean."

"I am if you'd listen," Wiress snaps, the cool expression never slipping from her face. "Mary mentioned you weren't terribly excited about the prospect of ending up in her rather high heels, and truth be told, I haven't gotten the impression the Capitol would be too keen on you in that position."

She pauses, eyes Birdy again for a moment, then sighs.

"You aren't as dim as most of the past few Victors, I assume you understand."

For a moment, Birdy just stares, uncertain what she's being expected to divine from Wires' less than helpful hints.

"You-Victors-we all have different jobs?" Birdy finally asks. "Not everyone is like Miss Mary and Miss Lons?"

Wiress doesn't speak, just nods.

"I'd do what you do," Birdy continues. When Wiress nods, Birdy's nose wrinkles. "So-what do you do, exactly?"

She isn't beautiful, more plain and sharp, certainly not someone Birdy can imagine being recruited into a life of providing worldly pleasure to the people of the Capitol. It makes sense she'd do something else.

Whatever Wiress does, it isn't what Miss Mary does, that's clear.

"Keep the order," Wiress answers, taking a sip from her cup. "We are a system, all of us. We each play our part, whether we like it or not. It's the price we pay for Victory. It's our due owed."

While Birdy doesn't feel she owes the Capitol much of anything, her opinion on the matter doesn't really mean anything. The Capitol owns her, and she's indebted to it.

"We help keep those providing...services in line, and they're cooperation keeps us in line."

While that makes no sense at the moment, Birdy supposes it might someday.

Before she can think better of it, Birdy's mouth opens and another question tumbles out.

"What happens if I don't want to play? What if I'm done with these stupid games?"

Wiress' sips the last of her drink, sets down her cup with a clink, then smiles coolly.

"You should know there's no backing out. Participation is compulsory. Very bad things happen to the loved ones of those who chose to believe otherwise. Just ask Haymitch Abernathy."

Images of the kids from the home, Katy-Jo Lewis and Jessup, Jobe, the Marsen sisters, all dead eyed, limp and lifeless, flood her mind. Having no family isn't going to set her free. She's still got people back home she'd die to protect.

There's still a noose around her neck, and one wrong move will spell her end.

"I'll take your silence to mean you understand." Wiress says, standing up, eyes narrowed on Birdy. "We'll discuss you part more extensively once your tour starts."

She breezes past, leaving Birdy staring at her cooling seat and empty cup as she goes.

When she doesn't hear the door open or close, Birdy turns and find Wiress has vanished.

Birdy doesn't ponder just how Wiress has left, her mind is too full and her eyes suddenly too heavy.

She simply drops into her pile of blankets and pillows and drops off into a dreamless sleep, hoping the train arrives bright and early in the morning.

She may not be going home, but anywhere that isn't the Capitol is fine by her.

#######

There's much more fanfare for Birdy's departure than there was for her arrival.

People scoop her up, kiss her, pass her around and promise her they'll see her when she returns and bring her diamonds and candies, everything she could hope for…

The two Peacekeepers that had caught her sneaking around in the Training Center pull her from the grabbing hands of the crowd, threaten to beat several people that try to push past them, before finally hoisting her over a gap between the train and the ramp.

"See you in a few months kid," the older one says, waving her goodbye as the doors slide closed.

Birdy retreats to her room before they've even reached the mountain tunnel. She watches the gleaming lights of her Emerald City vanish from sight from the window in her room.

"It gets easier," Miss Mary tells her, when she brings her dinner that night. "It never gets better, but it does get easier."

Birdy only shrugs. She would know better than her.

She doesn't leave her room, doesn't change out of the last outfit Ursula had stuffed her into, until the sweeping plains start slipping past her window.

Wearily, Birdy pulls on the dress she'd agreed to with Ursula, slides on a pair of heels, then stares at her reflection in the mirror.

She'd picked something simple, no frills or lace, definitely no feathers. It's summer weight, short sleeves, silk, olive with matching shoes. It's her funeral, she might as well be dressed the part.

Her hands run over her head, feeling the little sprigs of hair prickle her fingers, before taking the wig from its case.

For a minute she studies it, straightens the baby doll curls and compares the mossy color of it to her olive dress, before settling it onto her head.

Tears immediately begin filling her eyes and she quickly blinks them away.

There's no time to cry over lost hair or bad wigs.

The train begins to slow under her feet and she takes a breath as the door opens and Miss Mary's platinum head appears.

"Almost time."

She steps in, takes in Birdy's appearance, and smiles sadly.

"Going with mourning colors?"

Birdy forces a smile of her own and nods.

She'll be in mourning the rest of her life she thinks.

Miss Mary sighs and gestures toward the door.

"Everyone is waiting."

Hesitating, Birdy bites her lip, then smears green lipstick on them, just as Ursula had instructed her to do.

"Lipstick is a woman's armor," she'd explained as she'd painted color on Birdy's lips. "It makes you stronger."

She doesn't think that's true, but she needs all the strength she can get today. Even if it comes from someone completely mad.

Checking her teeth, Birdy takes a breath and turns back to Miss Mary.

"Let's get this over with."

Before she can step out the door, Miss Mary holds out her hand.

In her palm something glints in the light, shines silvery.

Reaching out, Birdy takes it.

The dagger, her dagger, the one she'd killed with, the one that got her here. Without it her allies wouldn't have made it half as far, Gus would've suffered a long, painful death, Birdy wouldn't be a Victor.

"I thought you should have it," Miss Mary tells her. "You might need it someday."

Twirling it in her palm, Birdy shakes her head.

"I hope not."

#######

The house she's given in the Victors' Village is two or three times the size of the group home.

It has air conditioning and heating, machines to wash and dry the clothes, a stove, oven, running water, all the trappings of a Capitol home. It's a foreign place to Birdy.

"If you need anything, I'm just across the way," Mr. Brandsetter tells her.

"And I'm next door," Miss Lons adds.

"And me," Miss Mary says, her expression tight with worry. "If you need anything-"

"You'll hear me screaming," Birdy cuts her off. "I'm not a baby."

She'd survived an Arena. She can survive a house.

"No, but the first few weeks-"

"Months-" Miss Lons cuts in with a grimace.

"Years-"

"-are hard," Miss Mary glares at Mr. Brandsetter. "You aren't alone in this."

Even though she kind of is. If Wiress' offer is genuine, she's very much alone in this.

There's no way she can help keep them held down and look them in the face.

Mr. Brandsetter kisses her cheek before heading home, and Miss Lons gives her a hug, leaving only Miss Mary and her concerned expression on Birdy's porch.

"Wiress spoke with you?" She asks, once the other two are gone.

Too tired to lie, Birdy nods.

"Take her offer," Miss Mary quietly tells her, bright eyes shining in the evening light. "You'll do well with her."

It shouldn't surprise her that Wiress' part is common knowledge, but it somehow does.

Birdy's nose wrinkles as she studies her Mentor, now strained and pale.

"I get the impression there's not much choice," Birdy finally sighs. She shrugs, gestures to herself. "I'm not exactly going to have people fighting over me."

Miss Mary's lips twitch into a sad smile.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"I don't think any of it is."

They're quiet for a few moments, letting the sun sink lower and the warm summer breeze ruffle their curls, before Birdy takes a long breath.

"I guess I ought'a get used to people hating me," she finally says. "I'd hate me if I were on the receiving end of that kind of emotional blackmail."

Miss Mary chuckles.

"Emotional blackmail? You're a very odd child," she laughs, smile waning. "You're gonna make it. No one will hate you. This is just our life. Everyone has a part. No one is happy about it."

She's probably right. She's been in this game longer than Birdy hopes she ever will be. Still, the thought nags at her.

She's going to be part of the man behind the curtain's wicked workers. Crush people like herself, and the thought doesn't sit evenly with her.

There's no choice though, and even if there were, what would she decide?

"Yeah," Birdy mumbles, rubbing her face, smearing her makeup. "See you later, Miss Mary."

With one last weak smile, Miss Mary turns and heads down the steps, her hands pressing to her middle, protecting something that isn't there.

She only wants to help, be needed, and Birdy has a sudden surge of guilt for her own stubbornness.

When she all the way to the little white fence, Birdy calls out to her.

"I'll scream if I need you. Just like the newborn Victor I am."

A moment passes, then Miss Mary's smile brightens. She laughs, shaking her head as she continues on toward her house.

Dropping onto the front step, Birdy watches the sun sink into the horizon. The sky dims, oranges fading into indigo, before the first stars twinkle to life overhead.

It isn't like the sky in the Arena, stagnant and false. The stars wink and glitter, glow with life. There's no dead sun, but a bright half-moon hanging lazily over her, and the cicadas hum doesn't deafen her. No coppery blood scents the air, just the honeysuckle fragrance blowing in the wind.

She's far from the Capitol and all its fakery. The reality of being back in Ten finally washes over her, and she smiles.

Something cold brushes her leg and she looks down.

Reaching into the folds of her dress, Birdy pulls out the dagger and examines it.

There's no blood, no smudges, no signs on it that it's a tool of murder.

It might as well be a kitchen knife as innocent as it appears.

Frowning, Birdy tucks it back into her dress before wandering out to an ancient tree at the edge of her yard.

Climbing up, she settles onto one of the larger limbs and watches an owl swoop down and snatch up a mouse from the field, carry it off into the dark wood in the distance.

Sighing, she closes her eyes and breathes in the warm summer air, pretending for a moment she won't do awful things soon, that she hasn't already, and that when she opens them she'll be back at the home.

She's still in the tree in the Victors' Village, miles from the home and her friends, when she finally does open them.

She'll never be there again.

Pulling the dagger from her dress she frowns again. Maybe, she thinks sadly, that's for the best.

She's broken, just like Miss Mary, Miss Lons, and Mr. Brandsetter, but she'll mend herself back together, just like they have.

If she tries hard enough, survives enough pain, she'll be stronger at the broken places.

Maybe she'll be made unbreakable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN pt 2: Last chapter, yay! Thanks for those of you who read this. I know OC's are hard to read about and I'm forever grateful anyone gave this a look. Birdy's Tour might get written someday, at least her visit to District Twelve and meeting Madge, but for now her story is done.


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